


Bound by Souls

by HippoParty (OneMoreHorcrux)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - His Dark Materials Fusion, Daemon Separation, Daemons, Dark, Dementors, Evil Voldemort, Gen, Growing Up Together, Hogwarts First Year, Horcruxes, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Soul Bond, Tom Riddle's Diary, Young Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 181,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneMoreHorcrux/pseuds/HippoParty
Summary: When Harry goes to Hogwarts, he finally understands that having a dæmon is normal. Only, the wizarding world never anticipated that Harry's dæmon would be an 11 year old Tom Riddle. AU Harry Potter inspired by His Dark Materials.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is crossposted from ffn.

"Mrs Dursley, I'm so glad you could make it, would you like some tea?" Mrs Gordon smiled as she opened her office door.

"No, thank you," Petunia said stiffly as she perched herself down on the opposite side of the headteachers desk. "You've had some problems with Harry?"

"Yes, unfortunately," Mrs Gordon said, her smile faulted as she took her own seat. "I'm sorry to say, but many of Harry's teachers have expressed concerns in his recent behaviour."

Petunia didn't say anything as she pursed her lips tightly, eyes narrowing.

"Do you have any problems with Harry at home?" Mrs Gordon asked as she picked up her own mug.

"No, " Petunia said, lips thinning.

There was an awkward pause as Mrs Gordon opened her mouth and closed it again slowly.

"It's just that Harry seems to have trouble cooperating with the other children," Mrs Gordon said. "The school doctor was very alarmed-"

"I don't think see how any of this has to do with the school doctor," Petunia said tersely.

"No," Mrs Gordon agreed, before continuing slowly. "I know you don't want to hear this Mrs Dursley, however, I need to speak to you on a very serious matter and it's related to Harry's mental health."

"Excuse me?" Petunia said, her fingers tightening around the top of her handbag.

"I'm afraid our doctor is very concerned for Harry's well-being. He has take action to assign Harry to a higher authority," Mrs Gordon explained.

"On what grounds?" Petunia snapped. "Harry is of no problem at home and I find this whole thing very offensive."

"I'm sorry this is a shock to you Mrs Dursley," Mrs Gordon said. "But our doctor is absolutely convinced that Harry is talking to himself."

Petunia sniffed her nose. "All children talk to themselves."

Mrs Gordon paused, seemingly not convinced by Petunia's flippant response.

"You know that's not what I mean. Harry is absolutely convinced that someone else is talking back."

Petunia stood up, snatching her handbag from the desk.

"Mrs Dursley," Mrs Gordon said, jumping up as well. "Please understand, as a school representative I must place Harry's health first and foremost and I've been advised that this must be investigated further-"

"No," Petunia said as she gathered up her coat. "Harry is fine, he's a perfectly normal 10 year old. He doesn't need any medical attention-"

"I have already filed this with the school board," Mrs Gordon stated. "You must oblige in sending Harry to a doctor, he is not well."

However Petunia wasn't listening as she made her way firmly towards the door.

"Mrs Dursley," Mrs Gordon interrupted firmly, stepping up beside her. "If you do not seek out medical help for Harry then I will have to contact social services."

Petunia paused, shooting the headteacher with a very cold stare, before she left with a slam of the office door.

* * *

"What did I tell you?" Uncle Vernon snarled, as he dragged Harry into the hallway.

"Let go of me," Harry demanded, struggling against the brutal force as his arm burned. "I haven't done anything-"

"Like hell you haven't boy," Uncle Vernon fumed, his face going a distinctive horrible shade of purple as he dragged Harry towards his cupboard. "Your Aunt was called in to meet your headteacher this morning."

Harry stilled at once, eyes widening in surprise.

His uncle turned on him furiously.

"Do you know what it was about?" Uncle Vernon demanded, spit flying into Harry's face.

Harry bit his lip, he could guess exactly what had happened.

"I have warned you about letting out your horrible little secret," Uncle Vernon snarled, his face moving right in front of Harry's.

"I didn't do anything."

"Then how do you explain your referral to see a psychiatric doctor?" Uncle Vernon demanded.

Harry drew back, trying to pull free.

"I didn't mean too-"

"Nonsense," Uncle Vernon roared as he pulled open the tiny cupboard and forced Harry into it.

The door slammed shut and Harry scrambled around wildly, slamming his fists into the wood in desperation as he was enclosed in darkness.

Harry switched instantly into fear.

"No please, open the door. Tom is still outside," Harry said, frantically clawing at the door as if this would somehow change his Uncle's mind.

However this wasn't to be.

"Good," Uncle Vernon snapped as Harry heard heavy footsteps retreat. "Perhaps you'll learn to hide your freakishness."

Harry continued to bang feverishly on the door, he didn't want to be trapped in here alone.

"Please," Harry yelled, sickness rising. "Please, just let Tom in-"

"Harry," a voice instructed loudly from the other side of the door. "Calm down."

It was an order, a demand to settle but Harry wouldn't as he hammered on the door.

"Please, Harry," Tom said. "Uncle Vernon has gone, so calm down."

But Harry wasn't listening, he didn't want to be trapped without Tom, he didn't want to be on his own.

And then Tom spoke again.

"Let me deal with this."

Harry fell back down on his bunk, head in his hands as his body shook with tremors. Even Toms reassurances weren't enough, they could be separated for hours with no care of either his Aunt or Uncle.

His relatives didn't know what it was like to be connected to anything and in turn be trapped apart. It was unbearable, as if his very being was incomplete and alone.

Harry felt Tom move away, and it wasn't long before he heard a petrified scream from upstairs.

No more than a minute later the cupboard door was wrenched open and Harry was greeted by Uncle Vernon's fury.

"What did you do?" Harry asked as Tom slipped into the cupboard, arms wrapping soothingly around him.

"Precious Dudley was upstairs," Tom grinned.

"Keep him under control," Uncle Vernon spat. "I swear if Tom threatens Dudley one more time, I will cart you off to an asylum myself. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Harry said coldly.

The door slammed in his face and he heard the lock click shut. Harry turned at once to Tom who was watching him carefully.

"What did you do to Dudley?" Harry asked warily, any repercussions would surely make it back to him.

Although he couldn't see Tom in the darkness he knew he was grinning.

"I was going to break his hand," Tom said as he ruffed Harry's hair.

Harry scowled but didn't draw back. "Great, so we'll be in here for days."

Tom pulled Harry round so they were sitting more comfortably on the small cot, legs tangled up in each other.

"You heard Uncle Vernon," Tom said, his voice dropping dangerously in the darkness. "The school knows. I doubt he would've let you out any time soon. Better we're in here together."

Harry shifted. "So what happens now?"

"I imagine we'll be seeing some doctor in the next couple of days," Tom said.

Harry stilled. "I don't want to see some doctor. "There is nothing wrong with us."

Tom didn't reply straight away.

"We're not normal Harry," Tom said. "We never will be."

"I still don't want to see some doctor," Harry grumbled.

"We're special and I for one will not be ignored. This is our chance to be noticed-"

"You're being naive," Harry interrupted. "We'll just get locked up in some padded cell."

"Because that's so much better than this," Tom said, prodding Harry in the darkness. "Anyway, you know we're capable of proving my existence. We can actually make something of ourselves."

"I don't want to be anything," Harry mumbled. "I just want to get away from the Dursley's."

"This is our way out Harry," Tom moved, arms pulling Harry closer as he stressed. "We will get away from the Dursley's, from this life."

"I don't want to share you," Harry whispered. "With doctors or anyone."

This time Tom didn't reply, too held up in his own thoughts to comment.

* * *

It was only a few days later when the doorbell rang. Harry at the time had been cooking Dudley's birthday bacon when Aunt Petunia hushed him away.

"Sit down," she said, now depositing bacon in front of Harry.

Dudley looked furious.

"That's mine," he demanded, half way from tearing open his new console.

"Shh," Aunt Petunia said as she placed some bacon in front of Dudley as well.

Harry was so surprised that he only stared at his plate stunned. Beside him Tom observed silently, eyes narrowed.

From the hallway they could now hear an unfamiliar voice mixed in with Uncle Vernon's.

"I believe the school have had some concerns," a woman was saying.

"So we have been informed," Uncle Vernon replied gruffly. "Harry just struggles with the other children, but he's perfectly happy at home. He has a cousin his age and they've never had any problems with each other."

Tom scowled at this as Harry lent closer.

"Social Services," Tom said.

Now Harry understood why he now had a decent breakfast. Dudley too seemed to have understood, as he stabbed a knife into his food in silent fury.

"Can I meet Harry?" the woman asked.

"We were just having breakfast, it's my son's birthday," Uncle Vernon said as the voices approached. Uncle Vernon voice sounded friendlier than Harry had heard before. "We're going to the zoo."

The kitchen door opened and Uncle Vernon appeared followed by a short dark haired woman. She was smiling brightly and her eyes flicked vacantly over Tom, before she greeted Harry.

"Hello Harry, I'm Emily. I'm from social services," Emily said.

Harry didn't know what to say to this so he only nodded silently.

"Are you going to the zoo as well?" she smiled.

As far as Harry knew, he was going to be spending the day with Mrs Figg as usual. So it was a surprise when Uncle Vernon nodded behind her back.

"Yes," Harry said, forcing a fake smile onto his face. "The zoo is my favourite."

Tom rolled his eyes and made a gagging noise. It was hard not to laugh, it took all Harry's effort to remain serious.

"It's just an initial visit today," Emily said. "I've only popped over to say hello."

If this was going to force the Dudley's to be nice to him, then Harry really couldn't complain.

"I hear you have a friend you talk to? Someone I can't see," Emily asked, getting straight to the point.

Tom looked like he was eyeing up Dudley's freshly unwrapped toy, as if debating which one to smash.

Harry shrugged. "He's not real."

Tom glared at him, but Harry didn't care. If he was allowed to go to the zoo, then this was certainly worth it.

Emily nodded as she knelt down to his level at the table.

"Some of your teachers seem to believe you think otherwise?"

Harry shot her his best smile, tilting his head to the side like Tom used to do.

"It's just a game, it's not my fault if they believe it, is it?"

"Of course it's not your fault," Emily said, completely taken in by his act.

Dudley was staring at him, bacon hanging from his mouth.

* * *

And so Harry earned a trip to the zoo. Uncle Vernon seemed to begrudgingly agree that Harry's performance had saved them some time, even if Harry's first appointment had been arranged regardless. Tom has been pleased by this, any excuse to mess up the Dursley's lives was worth it. Harry however, didn't want anyone probing around in his head, or getting close to Tom.

The zoo was actually quite good, and it was sometime later in the afternoon that Harry and Tom made it into the reptile house.

Dudley and his friend Pier's were flicking between animals with very little interest. Harry however paused by the side of a large glass case, Tom stood beside him.

"You could have told her," Tom said.

"It wouldn't have achieved anything," Harry shrugged.

"It would have," Tom countered. "The Dursley's abuse you. She could have stopped it."

"And then what?" Harry asked, as he watched a large boa pull its head up as if vaguely interested. "We'll still get carted off to some some doctor."

The snake hissed.

Tom suddenly looked distracted, before a frown crossed his face and then he opened his mouth.

He started hissing back.

Tom's voice was foreign, like it shouldn't be capable of making such noises. Harry watched confused as the snake seemed to respond to the eerie sounds.

"You're hissing," Harry stated, looking at Tom oddly before scanning his eyes around to check where Dudley had gone.

"He can see me, the Boa can see me," Tom said excitedly as he pointed towards the large reptile which was watching Tom with rapt attention.

The serpent hissed again, its tongue flicking as Tom seemed to laugh in response.

"You mean like the cats can?" Harry asked.

This was the weird thing, Tom was hidden to almost everything. No one could see him but for Harry and the neighbours cats.

Tom nodded still elated. "And he was speaking to me."

"You can understand him?" Harry asked with a frown.

Tom shot him a look. "Of course I can, weren't you listening?"

"Yeah," Harry answered. "Hiss to you to."

Tom regarded Harry carefully before pointing at the snake,

"He was saying he's never been to Brazil."

"Now you're just making this up," Harry stated, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms.

At Tom's annoyed frown Harry elaborated.

"You weren't speaking English."

"I wasn't?" Tom blinked, before turning back to the snake with a look of deep interest. "How is that possible?"

Harry shrugged. Odd things often happened around him and Tom, they always seemed to be drawn to it.

"So why can you speak to snakes and I can't?" Harry asked.

"Maybe snakes like me better," Tom replied with a lopsided grin.

Harry watched as the snake swayed back and forth.

"Mum," Dudley's annoying voice suddenly rang out behind them. "Harry's talking to himself again."

Harry spun around, and came face to face with a very smug Dudley. Uncle Vernon however, looked furious.

"What did I tell you boy?" Uncle Vernon hissed under his breath, beady eyes glancing around for any other nearby families.

Harry kept his gaze away from Tom's as he forced himself to face his Uncle.

"Not to speak to Tom in public," he bit out.

"And don't you forget it," Uncle Vernon hissed madly.

Harry knew his cupboard was waiting for him when they got home.

* * *

The incident at the zoo certainly did earn Harry a long time in his cupboard. It wasn't until the summer holidays had started when he was finally let out.

It was one morning however, when Harry was about to go into the kitchen for breakfast that he halted. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were inside, talking in hushed, desperate voices.

Tom lent his ear closer to the door.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was whispering. "We have to do something, they're going to find out. Harry's appointment is coming up and the doctor-"

"Nonsense Petunia," her husband replied. "The boy will keep quiet."

"Harry will, but Tom won't," Aunt Petunia hissed under her breath.

Tom shot Harry a very pointed glance at this as Harry rolled his eyes. Although Tom couldn't speak directly to anyone else but Harry, he could still interact with objects. Smashing the Dursley's things had always been Tom's most effective way of getting what he wanted.

This comment seemed to have stumped Uncle Vernon as he didn't reply immediately.

"If social services get involved they will take Dudley away as well," Aunt Petunia said frantically.

"I won't let that happen."

"Then let them deal with the boy," she stressed. "This whole problem will go away."

"I won't have one in the house Petunia," Vernon snapped coldly as he slammed his fist down with a large bang.

Now Harry was completely confused. He had followed his Aunt and Uncle up until this point, but now they seemed to be talking in code.

"We'll only have to deal with him during the holidays," Petunia stated stiffly. "Tom isn't going away otherwise and he'll only cause trouble."

"No," Uncle Vernon seethed. "I will not allow it."

"Please Vernon," Aunt Petunia said. "You know there is noting wrong with Harry."

Harry thought he had misheard. Tom too looked startled. The Dursley's had always been telling him he was unnatural, that Tom was wrong.

"That boy and his thing are freaks," Vernon hissed madly.

"And we can be rid of them both," Aunt Petunia stated. "Dudley will be safer."

Harry tuned out, turning to Tom in confusion.

"Nothing wrong with me?" He asked, this was certainly different.

"Aunt Petunia knows something," Tom answered.

Harry nodded before adding.

"She's afraid of you."

Tom paused for a moment.

"So she should be."

Although the threat was subtle, Harry knew it to be true. Tom was dangerous and Aunt Petunia was right to be cautious.

* * *

Harry and Tom didn't have to wait long to find out the context of Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's secret discussion, as it was only a couple of days later when Harry found out what was really going on.

"Boy, get in here," Uncle Vernon yelled from the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon was placed at the table his beady eyes glaring at Harry with such hatred.

"There is a matter that your Aunt and I have been discussing."

Harry raised his eyebrows surprised, Tom only shrugged at him.

"It is in regards to your schooling," Uncle Vernon said.

Harry blinked, that certainly wasn't something he had picked up on from their frantic whispers.

"I'm attending the local comprehensive school?" Harry said carefully. His Aunt and Uncle were in very temperamental moods today.

For a fleeting horrible second he thought they might be considering sending him to Smeltings with Dudley.

In response Uncle Vernon only jerked his head to a letter which was sitting on the counter. Intrigued Harry stepped forwards.

_Mr H. Potter_

_The Cupboard under the Stairs,_

_4 Privet Drive,_

_Little Whinging_

_Surrey_

"What's this?" Harry asked. It was addressed to his cupboard and made of thick yellow parchment. Harry turned the letter over and noticed the odd wax seal on the back had been broken.

"It is an invitation to attend the school your mother and father went to," Aunt Petunia said stiffly.

Harry looked up, mouth falling open. The Dursley's never spoke about his parents, let alone any school they went to.

"I don't understand," Harry started. "Is this some sort of scholarship?"

It seemed like his aunt and uncle had already lost patience with his questions. Tom perched his chin on Harry's shoulder as he peered down at the thick letter.

"Open it," Tom insisted.

Harry's turned his attention to opening the letter. More thick parchment spilled out as he stared at the title.

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Harry read it but the words washed over him. Was this some kind of joke. If it wasn't for the seriousness and purple face of his uncle he might have automatically dismissed it. Tom however had the complete opposite reaction.

"I knew it," Tom breathed, his eyes wide and alight in wonderment as he gripped Harry's arm. "I knew we were special."

Harry's head was spinning.

"My parents-" he whispered as he tried to piece everything together. "They...they were a witch-"

"Don't you dare say it out loud boy," Uncle Vernon snapped, face turning red.

"You knew?" Harry demanded, feeling a wash of anger running through him. "You knew there were others like me?"

His aunts expression sharpened in response.

"Knew, of course we knew," she snapped. "How could my perfect sister not be the freak that she was."

Harry stilled. His whole life had been a lie.

"And Tom?" Harry asked trying to keep his voice steady as Tom squeezed his hand in turn. The Dursley's usually tried to ignore the fact that Tom was there, as if he was only a figment of Harry's imagination.

Aunt Petunia looked at him with complete distaste.

"Oh my sister had a dæmon," she sniffed the word. "I never saw it of course, but it was always there."

Harry could barely breath as he felt Tom still, cold eyes darting from the letter to glare at his aunt.

"Tom-Tom is normal?" Harry whispered.

Petunia laughed coldly at this, almost hysterically. "Normal? Lily was always muttering away, chatting to her...her thing."

"She called me a dæmon," Tom said. "Ask her what that is."

Harry nodded quickly.

"What's a dæmon?"

Aunt Petunia glare was deadly but she still answered, as Uncle Vernon's face seemed to go a darker shade of purple.

"From what I understand, it's part of your soul, only it lives outside of your body. Now stop asking questions." she snapped.

Harry would have asked more but his head was already overloaded, thoughts buzzing with information as he looked towards Tom.

His soul, that's what Tom was.

Tom's expression had darkened, his eyes only cold and empty. It wasn't obvious if he was taking this information badly or was just thinking things over.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, ignoring the Dursley's as he gently pulled on Tom's sleeve.

Tom stirred as his eyes flicked to meet Harry's own.

"Ask them how your parents died," he stated quietly.

Harry's own eyes widened as his heart rate quickened.

"If they were powerful. If your parents really did have magic then they certainly didn't die in something as stupid as a car crash," Tom said.

The question died in Harry's throat however as Aunt Petunia continued.

"We have already contacted the school," Petunia said tersely. "A representative will be taking you into London on your birthday to buy supplies."

Harry gaped at this, distracted from Tom's question.

"You're going to buy me supplies to study magic?"

Uncle Vernon exploded. "Don't you dare say that word boy."

"What?" Harry blinked. "Magic?"

Uncle Vernon lost it, as he advanced and grabbed Harry firmly on the arm. Harry winched as he struggled.

"Let go," he demanded.

Uncle Vernon ignored him completely.

"While you live in this house you are still to obey our rules," he spat.

Something smashed causing both Harry and the Dursley's to jump alarmed. Tom was standing by the china plates, glowering murderously at Vernon.

"Tell him if he doesn't let you go now, I will snap Dudley's precious little neck," Tom hissed as he smashed another plate.

"Tell Tom to calm down," Petunia snapped furiously. "This does not concern him."

Now it was Harry's turn to be angry as the lights flickered. Barely registering that was something to do with him.

"Of course it involves him," Harry retorted. "He is apart of me whether you like it or not. After all these years where you've told us we're not normal. When there are plenty of others out there who can do what we can."

Uncle Vernon however had clearly had enough as he jerked Harry off his feet. Tom had no time to react as Harry was forced back into his cupboard and the lock clicked shut.

"No," Harry yelled, banging against the door.

"And Dudley will be staying at Pier's for the weekend, so Tom can't lay a finger on him," Uncle Vernon declared wildly. "And your aunt and I are leaving too. We'll be back Sunday night."

Harry froze, hands curling into fists against the door. Tom couldn't go far from him, maybe from Harry being trapped in the cupboard he would be able to reach the lamppost across the road, but that would hurt at a stretch. Tom was screaming, protesting loudly but of course the Dursley's couldn't hear him.

Harry zoned out, he had often been locked in his cupboard for days, but that wasn't the problem. Tom wasn't going to be with him, they were going to be separated by a thin piece of wood locked tightly and that made all the difference.

"And Tom better not destroy anything else," Uncle Vernon spat. "If I come home to so much as a broken teapot then I will leave you in there until that freak comes to collect you."

There was a slam of the front door.

Harry felt himself go hollow. The Dursley's had planned this, almost as if Uncle Vernon had known he wouldn't be able to cope with the situation and in turn Harry's reaction. Apparently throwing out all the information without facing any answers had been the solution and now Harry was sitting panicked, alone in his cupboard.

"I'll get something to smash it," Tom hissed, barely containing his anger.

Harry heard Tom move away hurriedly, he was probably seeking out Uncle Vernon's tool kit. Only Tom returned not more than a minute later.

"He's taken it with him," Tom said, fist slamming on the other side of the door.

Harry deflated, almost curling in on himself. He hated being without Tom.

Tom too seemed restless, Harry could hear him pacing back and forth, probably thinking of a way to break the lock.

"Are you really part of my soul?" Harry finally asked.

Tom hesitated, pausing in his pacing.

"I guess."

Harry knew this wasn't a good thing, something was bothering Tom already. He always had an answer and he wasn't satisfied with Aunt Petunia's explanation.

"I can't believe magic is real," Harry said in response, head leaning back against the wooden door. "Tom?" Harry pressed when the other side of the door remained deadly silent.

Harry heard the rustle of what must have been parchment. Tom was reading the letter again. When Tom did finally speak his voice was deadly cold.

"I swear to you Harry, when we are stronger and have know magic the Dursley's will suffer for what they have done to you."

"Tom-" Harry began. "Don't say that."

"I promise it," Tom hissed, his voice furious. "You never deserved this. We are better than them, they are only filth like the rest of them."

"The rest of them?" Harry asked confused.

"Those that aren't like us, the people who can't do magic."

"Not everyone is like the Dursley's and you know it." Harry countered.

Tom ignored his comment.

"They are incomplete. They don't have dæmons."

"Just because no one can see them doesn't mean they don't exist," Harry replied.

"Stop making excuses for them," Tom hissed. "They are worthless."

"I'm not," Harry countered. "Stop trying to find reasons to hate them all just because they're different from us."

"People will always hate what is different from the norm, and that includes us, why should we act any differently towards them?" Tom replied coldly.

"That doesn't make it right," Harry argued.

"You're being naive Harry," Tom stated.

Harry sighed, maybe he was.


	2. Chapter Two

Harry had never anticipated his birthday more. He'd always imagined some distant relative taking him away, but never did he actually consider he'd be leaving the Dursley's.

Dudley it seemed was terrified of Harry for once; usually it was the invisible presence of Tom that had him running to his parents.

It had taken Harry a good few days of contemplating to realise that magic truly was real. Tom was however, thriving on the thought, he had been recounting every suspicious moment that they had experienced. This included the time when Harry had incidentally turned his teachers wig blue.

And now it was Harry's birthday.

Harry had been shaking with nerves all morning, he'd already burnt Dudley's toast. Tom however seemed more subdued then in the approaching days, he was currently watching the front door with his brow furrowed.

Harry was about to start on his own breakfast when the doorbell rang. Uncle Vernon shot him a warning look as he got up to answer.

Harry moved at once to stand in the doorway, not caring that Aunt Petunia and Dudley were glancing at him in fear. Tom came to stand beside him, a grin plastered on his face.

Uncle Vernon opened the door and his head tilted up, eyes widening. There was an awkward silence before someone replied.

"I best not come in," a man started. "Don't want te break anything."

Uncle Vernon's hand was gripping the door handle so tightly that it had turned purple. It seemed to be taking all his self restraint from slamming it shut.

"People will notice if the boy suddenly disappears," Uncle Vernon began stiffly. "The school-"

"Ahh, don't yeh worry about that," the voice interrupted. "We'll deal with that, Arry abou' then?"

Uncle Vernon seemed to be really struggling as he nodded, jerking his head towards Harry. With rising trepidation Harry approached, Tom close to his side.

Harry and Tom moved outside as Uncle Vernon slammed the door shut with a bang.

Harry couldn't help but stare. Outside on the front path was the largest man he had ever seen. He was practically a giant, and was covered in the wildest beard, with black eyes shinning underneath his mane of hair.

However this was hardly the focus of Harry and Tom's attention, what was a lot more shocking was the huge semi-translucent dog. The fact that the animal was shimmering in the light really threw Harry off guard, this was clearly the man's dæmon, but Tom was completely solid.

Whatever the giant was going to say seemed to fall from his lips as his eyes fixed onto Tom. Even the massive dæmon responded, stance turning aggressive. Harry pulled Tom behind him.

"You can see him?" Harry said.

He had just assumed that other people couldn't see Tom, even Aunt Petunia hadn't seen his mothers dæmon.

Hagrid's expression was very unfriendly, and he looked wild as he stared down at Tom coldly.

"Yeh I can see him," he growled. The enormous dog was snarling, teeth bared. Harry backed up quickly, taking Tom with him. If he could see him, did that mean he could touch him too, that this giant would hurt Tom, he certainly looked angry and violent enough.

"I'm not going te hurt yeh, Harry," the giant offered, clearly noticing Harry's discomfort but not moving his eyes off Tom regardless.

"Who are you?" Harry started. "How come you can see Tom?"

"Rubeus Hagrid," the man stated stiffly. "Keeper of Keys and grounds at Hogwarts and I can see him same reason as you can see my dæmon, Ilaria." Hagrid's hand moving to grip into his dæmon's fur. Ilaria barked at this as Harry stayed clinging to Tom who was remaining startling quiet.

"The Dursley's can't see Tom," Harry pointed out.

"That's because they're muggles isn't it," Hagrid said bluntly.

"Muggles?"

"Non magic folk," Hagrid replied gruffly.

Harry's head was spinning. Hagrid had come to take him to London to buy school supplies but something was wrong as Ilaria kept her sharp eyes fixed on Tom.

"Come on," Hagrid muttered. "We bes' get going."

Harry followed mutely, not entirely sure what to think of this situation, he was feeling incredible self conscious that Tom was on view.

* * *

It wasn't long until they were on the train zooming towards the heart of the city. It had been a tense affair and Harry was beginning to lose patience. Tom had forced a cold mask onto his face which Harry hadn't seen before.

"What's wrong with Tom?" Harry started, defensive.

It seemed Harry had asked the wrong question for Hagrid didn't answer straight away. The country side sped past the window but it didn't deter Harry's gaze as he waited for a response.

"Dæmons are animals for a start," Hagrid offered at last. Harry and Tom looked at each other. Did this mean that even in the wizarding world they were going to be freaks.

"So why is Tom human?"

"Because something is very wrong," Hagrid answered bluntly.

Harry frowned.

"Aunt Petunia said my mother used to talk to her dæmon."

"That's because dæmons can talk isn't it," Hagrid pointed out.

Both Harry and Tom looked at Hagrids dæmon, transparent and shimmering unlike like Tom, but for whatever reason the dog didn't offer to speak. Instead it growled again.

"And why is Tom solid?" Harry asked.

"To my eyes Ilaria is solid," Hagrid explained gruffly. "It's how dæmon's work. Everyone else's will look like a patronus."

"A what-?" Harry asked.

"Complicated bit o' magic," Hagrid shrugged as they fell into another silence.

Harry shifted on his seat. Tom was sitting with a slight distance between them, one which usually wouldn't have been present.

It was eventually Tom who broke the silence.

"How did Harry's parents die?" he asked coolly.

Harry raised his eyebrows at this. Tom had been convinced that something else had happened, something far greater than a car crash.

"Don't speak," a voice growled suddenly towards Tom. "You do not have the right to ask that."

It was so unexpected but the sound had clearly come from Ilaria, Hagrid's dæmon. Her voice moved in sync with her mouth, but it looked normal, as if all dogs could speak.

Again oddly enough Tom obeyed this, his lips thinning as expression darkened. Harry didn't like how things were turning out.

"Answer him," Harry stated tightly.

Hagrid's expression softened automatically as he stared at Harry with pity.

"But surely yeh know that?"

Harry swallowed.

"They died in a car crash."

Hagrid exploded, his mouth opening in sheer disbelief.

"Car crash," he roared. "How could a car crash kill Lily an' James Potter? It's an outrage!"

Some of the passengers turned round to stare at them startled. Harry blinked, totally taken aback by this giant and his monster of a dog.

"Your parents were murdered," Ilaria responded with a growl towards Tom.

"Murdered?" Harry gaped, stomach churning. Tom had been right.

Harry's surprise obviously caused a reaction in Hagrid.

"Surely yeh Aunt and Uncle told yeh?" He started frighteningly angry. "You should know-?"

Harry shook his head, as Tom's face remained startlingly cold and blank.

"Harry doesn't," Ilaria said slowly, her voice unlike Hagrid's was warmer and kinder now she focused only on addressing Harry.

"Does he know?" Hagrid spoke to his dæmon, apparently not even happy with saying Tom's name.

"No."

"Ignorant to what?" Tom asked coldly, eyes glaring.

Both Hagrid and Ilaria ignored him.

"Aunt Petunia said I got my scar when my parents died," Harry began slightly hesitant.

Hargid nodded, eyes watering.

"That's right."

"What happened?" Harry's throat was oddly dry.

"I'm not sure I'm the one to tell you," Hagrid said awkwardly. "I can't believe yeh don't know, when everyone else does-"

"Know what?" Harry pressed anxiously.

"I never expected this, I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me there might be trouble, how much yeh didn't know. Ah Harry, I don't know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh – but someone's gotta – yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin-"

"Who murdered my parents?" Harry asked.

Ilaria however seemed to take control.

"You're famous," she started. "Your parents are famous."

Harry really tried to ignore the sharpness in Tom's eyes at this as his stomach jolted.

"What? My Mum and Dad weren't famous were they?"

"Yeh don' know, yeh don' know-" Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harry with a bewildered stare.

Again Ilaria answered.

"There was a wizard who went bad, really bad. And your parents were killed, but there is more too it than that," she explained. "He tried to kill you, too, but he couldn't do it."

"He tried to kill me?" Harry gaped.

"The mark on your forehead, that is no ordinary cut," Ilaria gestured her large head towards him. "That's what you get when a powerful, evil curse touches you – took care of your mum and dad and your house, even – but it didn't work on you, and that's why you're famous."

Harry couldn't breathe, how could he be famous for something he didn't even remember.

"Who was he?" He whispered.

The train halted to a stop.

Hagrid didn't even look at him.

"That's us," he said as he hurried them all off.

Tom was unusually silent again and Harry could barely stand it, he was dying to speak to him privately.

"Hagrid," Harry stopped at the entrance to the underground. He didn't want to go any further until he had more information.

"Who killed my parents?"

Hagrid's eyes distinctly settled onto Tom before he answered.

"Nobody says his name, Harry,"

Harry frowned at this, how was he ever going to find out anything.

"They call him You Know Who," Ilaria said.

"That's not a name," Harry pointed out, but Hagrid was already moving down the steps and out of sight.

Ilaria didn't expand any further as she too motioned her head for Harry and Tom to follow.

* * *

Hagrid continued to avoid Harry the rest of the way, even Ilaria was silent as they walked through the crowded streets of London.

It was a lost hope, Harry wasn't going to get his answers directly. Tom rolled his eyes at him, following mutely, he seemed content in playing the observer.

Harry pulled out his school list once more, he may as well try to make things more comfortable.

"Can we really buy all this stuff in London?"

Hagrid actually answered him.

"If yeh know where to go."

Harry however almost froze, Tom running into the back of him.

"The Dursley's didn't give me any money," his stomach churning as Tom pushed himself away with a wary look.

"Ah, don' yeh worry about that. Yeh parents left yeh plenty."

"My parents?"

"Course they did," Hagrid nodded. "Anyway, let's get on, lot's the buy."

They entered a small dingy pub called the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry was at once struck by how many witches and wizards were packed into this small pub. He could immediately tell that they were different by the number of animals also dotted about.

One man actually had a crocodile lying lazying about in the shadows of a table, another a parrot perched high on a dim light fixture, both were semi-translucent like Ilaria.

Harry couldn't keep his eyes still as Tom moved closer to him, a hand tugging slightly on his sleeve.

"Ah Hagrid," the bartender began "The usual?"

"Not today I'm afraid," he nodded his head towards Harry. "I'm on official Hogwarts business."

"Good Lord," said the barman, peering at Harry. "Is this – can this be?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," he whispered, an old mouse scuttling into his grip. "Harry Potter – what an honour."

And then his eyes shifted across to Tom and they widened. It was like a ripple effect as all eyes shifted, even the dæmons looked cautious and afraid, as if unsettled by something different.

To Tom's credit he didn't say a word, only held himself still as Hagrid placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Come on Harry," he began, already trying to move him away, but they didn't get far.

"P-P-Potter-" someone stuttered.

Harry was startled, but Hagrid seemed pleasantly surprised as he turned towards a man with a large turban on his head.

"Ah Harry, this is Professor Quirrell, he'll be one of your teachers at school," he explained.

Harry was about to say hello and ask what subject he taught but he didn't get that far.

"W...w...what an unusual dæmon" Quirrell stuttered, voicing allowed the one question everyone seemed to want to ask. It was so horribly quiet as everyone leaned in to listen.

"His name is Tom," Harry stated tightly. He had barely finished when his scar twinged painfully. Wincing, Harry moved his hand to his head.

"Are yeh okay, Harry?" Hagrid asked.

"Fine," Harry muttered, glancing towards Tom, slightly unnerved that he hadn't reacted.

Instead Tom was staring at Quirrell with an odd look on his face as Harry rubbed his head feeling a bit dejected. Everyone was still watching, as mutters began to spread.

Harry wanted to get out of the pub, but Tom seemed to be dithering. Hanging back as he stared at Quirrell openly, a look of intrigue on his face. Harry tugged his arm, almost startling Tom from his stupor.

"Let's go," he muttered, barely resisting the urge to rub his forehead again. Tom relented silently as they walked out the back of the small pub. Quirrell only watched them both as Hagrid steered them away.

As soon as they were outside in a small corridor, Harry jumped at the question.

"Is everyone always going to look at me differently because of Tom?"

"Yes," Ilaria replied, but Hagrid was already moving on as he pulled out what looked like a pink umbrella. Harry barely registered that everyone had recognised him, Tom however had other things on his mind.

"How come that man didn't have a dæmon?" he asked, finally speaking up again. Harry blinked, he hadn't noticed anything odd about Quirrell at all.

Ilaria looked between him and Harry before she nodded towards Hagrid.

"Some powerful witches are wizards can separate themselves from their dæmons. Dumbledore for example," Hagrid added. "He can go a long way from his dæmon."

Harry's mind raced back to his letter, Dumbledore was the headmaster at Hogwarts.

"So Professor Quirrell's dæmon is just far away?" Harry gaped. Him and Tom had of course experimented and not managed to go far.

"Well that's the thing," Hagrid stated uncertainly. "He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but the he took a year off ter get some experience...They say he met vampires in the Black Forest and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag – never been the same since, he came back alone see."

"Came back alone?" Harry asked.

"He lost his dæmon," Tom prompted quietly.

Harry turned to look at him horrified.

"Leaves a man hollow," Hagrid sad sadly, ignoring Tom once more. "Empty inside."

Harry could believe that, as he swallowed tightly. Even Ilaria looked disturbed as Hagrid tapped his umbrella on the wall. It began to move.

Harry stared stunned, this was the first piece of actual magic he had seen.

"An umbrella?" Tom sneered.

Hagrid glared at him as Ilaria growled.

"Yeh'll get a proper wand," he directed gruffly towards Harry. "Firs' stop is Gringott's though, need to get yeh money."

* * *

Gringotts was certainly an odd place, full of small creatures called Goblins. Harry was feeling more overwhelmed already, just from the sheer amount of gold his parent had left him, stunned that his inheritance was buried deep under London.

Tom's eyes had widened, his shock so open on his face as he stared at the gold.

Harry gathered a few strange looking coins into his pouch before Hagrid promptly moved them on.

"Next, vault 713," Griphook, the small goblin showing them round, declared.

Tom was about to enter the small cart when Ilaria moved in front of him, teeth snarling. Harry froze, she looked ready to lunge.

"Riddle shouldn't," she growled towards Hagrid.

Tom just glared at her and didn't say a word. Hagrid was looking at Harry carefully, seemingly debating something.

"We'll go back up top first," he stated to Griphook, much to his dæmons satisfaction. "You can wait up there Harry, I have something I need to collect." He looked queasy at the thought of spending more time on the rails.

"What's in vault 713?" Tom asked coolly.

Both Hagrid and Ilaria ignored him.

"Come on Harry," Hagrid gestured towards the rails.

Harry relented, choosing again not to comment on Tom's dismissal. He was used to the Dursley's not interacting with him anyway. It was only when they were up in the large entrance hall, and Hagrid had gone back down below, that Harry could finally talk to Tom freely.

"I think he knows you," Harry whispered, not liking the number of Goblins eyeing them up.

"How can he know me?" Tom asked coldly. He clearly was annoyed with Harry for not sticking up for him.

Harry paused, before voicing his thoughts out loud.

"Ilaria called you Riddle, does that mean you used to be a person?"

"Of course not," Tom replied tersely. "I would remember something like that."

"Why not?" Harry added. "Magic is real after all, why can't it be possible?"

"I've always been with you," Tom argued, his stance slightly aggressive as if insulted by Harry's implications.

"I know that," Harry answered plainly. "I'm just considering the options. There must be a reason they hate you."

Tom crossed his arm and raised a mocking eyebrow as Harry continued. "And dæmons are meant to be animals?"

"So?" Tom replied coldly.

Harry sighed. "You're different, I'm just trying to work out why. Plus Hagrid seems to like me, if you are a part of my soul why does he hate you so much?"

Tom glared at him.

Harry stepped forwards, hand tugging on Tom's sleeve. Tom didn't reciprocate, his body tense as eyes swept back over the foyer. Harry felt sick at the realisation, it wasn't going to be the same now everyone could see Tom.

His arm dropped slowly back to his side.

* * *

Hagrid had excused himself promptly when he returned, looking quite sick from his journey through Gringotts. So Harry and Tom were now entering Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions alone. The witch had smiled, although it had slipped at the sight of Tom before she moved them into the back room.

Another boy was already getting fitted and he at once focused his eyes onto Harry and then Tom.

"Your dæmon is a human," the blonde boy stated, mouth gaping in shock.

"Your dæmon is a rodent," Tom sneered.

The boy's dæmon was a brilliantly white ferret, perched on top of a stool.

"This rodent has teeth," the ferret hissed, fur at once sticking up as her back arched.

"Hush," Madam Malkin scolded them as she pulled a robe over Harry's head.

The boy however looked vaguely impressed and he eyed Tom up with interest.

"What are your names?" he asked, rephrasing his direction towards them both.

Tom seemed slightly appeased.

"I'm Harry," Harry offered. "He's Tom."

The boy who had at first been looking towards Tom snapped his attention back to Harry in an instant.

"Harry," he stated. "Harry Potter?" Eyes flicked up to his forehead. Directly where Harry's scar was.

"Who-?" Harry began, thoughts on his parents muderer, but Tom interrupted.

"Who are you?" Tom asked.

The boy pulled himself up tall. "I'm Draco Malfoy, and this is my dæmon Adara."

Draco held his arm out proudly as his dæmon moved up it to to sit on his shoulder. She actually was quite stunning, as her fur glistened in the light.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands," Draco continued, before he paused. "Who are you with anyway?"

It was odd, every one seemed to know more about Harry than he did himself.

"Hagrid," Harry replied tightly. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh, I've heard of him. I heard he's some sort of savage – lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to is bed."

Tom smirked, clearly warming to Draco Malfoy.

Harry however didn't comment, he was reminded oddly enough of Dudley.

Draco looked appraisingly towards Tom, lips curling into a smile. Adara too seemed oddly excited.

"Which house do you think you'll be in?" Draco asked after a slight pause.

Again Harry didn't know what to say, he was beginning to like this situation less and less.

Tom however was in his element.

"That should be obvious," he lied, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.

Again this statement only seemed to impress the boy as he grinned.

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"What about you?" Tom asked.

"Slytherin too of course," Draco smirked, again puffing out his chest proudly.

Harry didn't have a clue what Slytherin was, and he knew Tom didn't either, but apparently that's where Tom had implied they'd be.

"Are both your parents magical?" Tom asked. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes, Tom thrived on information.

"Of course," Draco nodded. "But I heard you went off to live with muggles. What was that like?"

Harry really didn't like where this was going, vaguely wondering if this boys dæmon spoke at all. Currently Adara seemed content in just listening.

Tom's eyes had darkened as he answered.

"Disgusting."

Harry eyed him warily, not sure if that had been the best thing to say. Draco however looked pleasantly surprised, as Adara squeaked.

"You'll have to meet my father-" he began at once.

Luckily at that moment, Madam Malkin seemed to have finished.

"That's you dear."

Harry didn't hesitate as he jumped down off the stool.

"See you at school," he rushed, giving Tom a very pointed stare.

Draco only grinned back. "See you Harry, Tom."

They couldn't get out the shop quicker.

"Do you really have a problem with me talking about the Dursley's?" Tom asked casually.

Harry glared at him.

"They're not the same as all muggles and you know it."

"Draco and Adara didn't seem to think so," he smiled widely.

"His parents are both magical," Harry replied angry. "You don't need to go spreading your prejudice."

Tom just smirked at him, as they walked along. Hagrid it seemed was still in the pub.

"Anyway, why did you interrupt me back there?" Harry asked still annoyed.

"Everyone knows you Harry, ignorance would appear weak," Tom offered mildly.

"Weak?" Harry blinked.

"Knowledge is power," Tom explained.

"But if nobody tells me about You Know Who, I'll never know," Harry pointed out. "Draco could have told me-"

"You Know Who is infamous Harry, and you're famous," Tom paused outside of an odd looking bookshop and raised his eyebrows.

Harry groaned, "You think I'll be in some book?"

Tom grinned, "Of course you will be."

Harry then proceeded to deliberately spend ages picking up his school books, anything to delay Tom's point. Tom was deep into browsing through the shelves and produced a few books smugly.

Begrudgingly Harry brought a thick book called 'The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', in which Tom said Harry's name was referenced on at least a dozen pages. He also picked up a book about dæmons which looked like it would answer most of Toms questions. Harry hadn't had any time to read into them in detail at all when Hagrid and Ilaria showed back up.

"Right," Hagrid stated, at least he no longer looked sick. "Best get yeh wand."

Harry had been looking forward to this the most, Tom too was momentarily distracted from researching further.

* * *

It wasn't too far to Ollivander's as Ilaria led the way. It was a shabby sort of building, and looked like it would be just as run down inside. Hagrid seemed content in letting Harry and Tom enter alone. He excused himself at once, saying he had a letter he had to send.

They entered, and Harry really wasn't looking forward to another encounter where Tom would be stared at. The shop looked empty at first and it wasn't until Tom nudged Harry gently to look up that he saw they were being watched.

A large transparent owl was staring down that, watching from the darkness. It was quite clearly a dæmon, which meant only one thing; her human was nearby.

She hooted loudly, startling Harry slightly as an old man appeared.

"Mr Potter," he breathed at once. "I wondered when I would be getting you."

His owl flapped it's wings, before swooping down to land on his shoulder intimidatingly. He looked positively frightening as his old eyes peered over to Tom, widening slightly.

"I have just the wand," he whispered suddenly.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

Ollivander looked away from Tom briefly to focus on Harry. His Barn Owl however kept her eyes sharply on Tom.

"The wand chooses the wizard Mr Potter," he explained, a look of fascination on his face. "And I know just the wand which will suit you."

He moved away before Harry could say anything further, immediately rummaging through dusty boxes with haste.

"No no no," he was muttering. "That's not the one."

Harry really didn't know what to do, as Tom only shrugged.

"Ah ha," Ollivander exclaimed moments later, a non distinct box in his hand. "Here it is."

He turned back to Harry, his hands were shaking.

Ollivander held it out to him as Harry took it carefully, feeling slightly confused. The wand had a pretty decent weight to it, but that wasn't really what Harry noticed first, he could feel the rush moving through him, and it felt brilliant.

Tom too seemed affected as his eyes widened, staring at Harry in surprise as sparks flew from the end of it. Ollivander looked positively fearful as he pulled it abruptly out of Harry's hand to package it up for him.

It was only when Harry handed over his gold that he heard Ollivander's owl muttering until her breathe.

"Curious," she was hooting repeating and softly.

"Sorry?" Harry said awkwardly, staring up at her. "What's curious?"

Ollivander fixed him with a very tense stare, his own owl dæmon hooting towards Tom.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold Mr Potter. Every single wand. In fact the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar."

Harry felt his stomach flip.

"I sold its brother over fifty years ago," Mr Ollivander breathed.

"Who to?" Tom demanded, arms crossed as he stared at the man coldly. Harry would have complained at this hypocrisy, but he wanted answers too.

Ollivander didn't seem bothered by Tom's hostility, in fact he was relishing in the moment as he turned towards him.

"To you," he whispered.


	3. Chapter Three

The rest of the day really was a blur. Harry had never seen so many strange and fascinating things. However, everything felt hollow and awkward, as if him and Tom were disjointed.

Harry stepped out of Ollivander's confused.

Harry severely hoped Ollivander was just mad, but Hagrid's reaction to Tom was screaming doubts in his head. Tom seemed content in not speaking to him while Hagrid was present, which was driving Harry crazy. He needed to speak about the implications that Ollivander had suggested.

It was an agonising few hours later before they finally made their way back to the station.

"Got time fer a bite before the train leaves," Hagrid said. He bought Harry a hamburger and they sat down on plastic seats to eat them.

"You all right, Harry? Yer very quiet," Hagrid asked.

Harry was doing everything but look towards Tom. He braced himself, fearing the worse.

"What was his name?" Harry asked. "The wizard who killed my parents?" Harry tried to ignore Tom as he stiffened beside him.

Hagrid once again shared a look with Ilaria before she nodded slowly.

"Yeh can't go off to Hogwarts not knowin,'" Hagrid gave in, looking sad. Harry barely drew breath as he waited.

"Voldemort," Hagrid whispered.

"That's not his real name."

It was more of a statement than a question.

Hagrid's eyes definitely flicked over towards Tom this time, although brief Harry noticed.

"No," he agreed softly. "It's not."

Harry felt sick, it pretty much confirmed everything. They were silent all the way home.

Hagrid didn't seem to notice the tension between Harry and Tom as he continued to chat unaware. Ilaria, Hagrid's dæmon, however was shifting her sharp eyes back and forth between the two. It was only a faint relief when they stepped back onto the neat lawn of Privet Drive.

Hagrid was rummaging through his large coat, seemingly unaware that Harry just wanted to get inside.

"Happy birthday, Harry."

He produced a small squashed cardboard box. Harry blinked.

"Go on, open it Harry," Hagrid urged.

Harry opened it, his hands trembling, and he at once didn't know what to say. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with Happy Birthday Harry written on it with green icing.

"Thank you," he stumbled.

"Made it meself," Hagrid declared proudly as Tom coughed lightly. Harry momentarily distracted, caught onto the hint.

"I better get inside," he prompted awkwardly. "The Dursley's-"

"Course," Hagrid agreed, as he rummaged through his coat pocket once more.

He then produced an envelope and handed it over.

"Yer ticket fer Hogwarts," he said "First o' September – Kings Cross – it's all on yeh ticket."

Hagrid suddenly looked very sad, his large shoulders sagging as his eyes slid over himself and Tom. Illaria nuzzled her large head underneath his arm, as if sensing his need for comfort.

"Things are wrong," Hagrid said quietly. "But yeh'll be alright Harry."

Harry's automatic response was to defend Tom, but his voice fell short as he faltered. Hagrid nodded to him, ignoring Tom, before he and Ilaria stepped away.

Harry watched him silently, well aware of Tom itching beside him, until a bus drove past and Hagrid vanished completely.

As soon as Hagrid had gone, Tom acted. Grabbing Harry by the front of his t-shirt and hauling him around the back of the house. Tom slammed him into the brick wall causing Harry to drop his cake.

"What the hell do you think you're playing at?" he demanded, fists clenching the front of his clothes.

Harry shoved him away annoyed. "You're the one who's been acting odd all day."

Tom withdrew his hands as he rolled his eyes, eyes darkening.

"What did you expect?"

Harry bit his tongue, he knew why Tom had been so distant, it just didn't make him feel particularly good. Harry shook his head, hand running through his messy black hair, barely registering that Tom was closer to him then he had been all day.

"I just don't know-"

Tom only raised an eyebrow, and Harry knew what he was waiting for.

Harry took a steadying breath, he may as well take the plunge.

"You're Voldemort."

It felt odd to be saying it out loud, particularly since his churning nerves had been brewing since London.

Tom stepped back slightly, crossing his arms. It was a deliberately casually movement, one which screamed that everything wasn't okay.

"Apparently," Tom replied quietly, eyes unusually unfriendly.

Harry's heart was pounding.

"You killed my parents?" Harry's voice sounded distant and unfamiliar to his own ears.

"You killed me," Tom answered coolly in response as he raised an eyebrow. "So technically we're even."

Harry swallowed at this. This was so wrong, Tom was his, and his alone. Not someone capable of murdering people.

"I don't understand," Harry said, shaking his head. "Do you remember any of it?"

Tom fixed Harry with a very cold stare with this question.

"No. You know I don't."

Harry did know and it had only been an insult to ask. He stared down at his broken birthday cake, half falling out its box and onto the grass. It was doing a good job to sum up how he was feeling.

Tom had killed his parents in some way or another, that was the brutal truth. And then somehow he had become Harry's dæmon.

The sun was hanging low in the sky as Harry sighed heavily. He had never wanted to share Tom in the first place, even some doctor threatening to poke round had been almost too much, now they had a whole world to deal with.

He glanced back towards Tom who had his gaze fixed firmly upon Harry. This had been what Tom always wanted. To be noticed. To make something of themselves.

And now Harry was famous, in some twisted way or another.

"Something obviously went wrong when you tried to kill me," Harry said.

"Voldemort," Tom stated, he didn't even blink.

"Huh?"

"When Voldemort tried to kill you," Tom correctly bluntly. Harry looked away, stomach churning, already he had combined Tom and Voldemort into the same, and that wasn't fair.

Tom sighed, seemingly losing patience with him, as he stepped closer to Harry, one arm outstretched against the wall, holding him in place.

Automatically Harry turned his gaze down, but Tom caught his chin forcing Harry's eyes back up to his own.

"If I used to be Voldemort, I am no longer. We're together now," Tom stated firmly, eye's locked on.

Harry felt his stomach flip uncomfortably.

"You're still Voldemort," Harry pointed out heavily.

"So? Does that change anything?" Tom's gaze sharpened, daring him to say otherwise.

Harry faulted at this, instantly feeling more ashamed. Tom was still his dæmon, Dark Lord or not. Harry's eyes flicked down to stare at Tom's shoes.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

"So you should be," Tom stated tersely as if this whole disagreement was nothing more then some minor inconvenience. "Now come on, I want to read those books."

Harry relented, bending down to rescue what remained of his first birthday cake. There was no point in wasting it. He followed Tom sullenly back to the house, barely registering what had happened.

It was almost like an odd relief as Harry relaxed, he didn't have to share Tom with anyone else for the day. No other witch or wizard was going to come knocking on their door and even if they did, Uncle Vernon wouldn't let them in the house.

Harry emptied out his shopping into his cupboard, it was a pretty tight squeeze considering it now had a whole trunk in it. Grabbing the two books they had picked out, Harry turned to make his way to find somewhere to read, only to come face to face with uncle Vernon.

"Upstairs," he stated gruffly. Harry didn't understand, as Tom shrugged.

"Dudley's old room," Uncle Vernon said. "It's your room now, move your things upstairs now before I change my mind."

Harry thought he had misheard as he stared at his Uncle.

"Get your stuff later," Tom instructed, as he moved past Uncle Vernon and up the stairs.

Harry watched him carefully, before he nodded. This was more important.

"I wouldn't touch any of my things by the way," Harry said to Uncle Vernon. "Hagrid said if anyone but a wizard touched it, well..." Harry paused, deliberately leaving his sentence hanging. Harry couldn't tell if it was the threat, or the fact he had said the word wizard, which caused Uncle Vernon to turn purple. He hurried after Tom, not waiting to find out.

Dudley's old room was full of broken toys, a broken bike was leaning in the corner, and several smashed toys and consoles were dotted about.

Tom kicked a toy car across the floor as he leaned against the wardrobe. Harry hesitated before he moved over to the bed, displacing a pile of old clothes that didn't fit Dudley any more.

It was horrible to feel this awkward with Tom, but one thing they both agreed on, they needed more information. Harry stared at the two books, before selecting the first. Tom only raised an eyebrow at his choice as Harry read the title.

"Me, Myself and My Dæmon," he flicked to the first page.

"Dæmons take the form of animals and are directly connected to their respective witch or wizard. Any animal can represent a dæmon, and they usually appear when a child's magic starts developing, this is common around the age of seven."

Tom had been around since long before then, Harry could never remember a time when they hadn't been together.

"Dæmons are bound to their humans and are usually incapable of being separated by any significant distance. However, some powerful witches and wizards have trained their dæmons to overcome this. Albus Dumbledore, current Headmaster of Hogwarts, and his dæmon Fawkes are well known for this ability and are often seen apart."

That's what Hagrid had said too. Harry had to admit he couldn't see the point of it himself, why would he want Tom to be far away.

Harry flicked through the pages and randomly started reading aloud again for Tom to hear.

"Animagis have the power to possess their dæmons. This causes the witch or wizard to solidify into their transparent dæmons form. During this time the dæmon's consciousness is said to be in a hibernating state until the witch or wizard is separated once more. However, such a task is extremely dangerous and if done incorrectly, can result in the dæmon becoming trapped within the witch or wizards own consciousness indefinitely."

Harry couldn't help but grin slightly.

"That would be fun."

Tom looked slightly disturbed at this. "No, there is no way you're attempting that."

Harry flicked the pages on again.

"If a dæmon dies, usually so will the witch or wizard. In very rare circumstances the person will continue living, but their life will be a shadow of what it was."

"Like Professor Quirrell," Tom added.

Harry nodded.

"Dæmons on the other-hand, cannot live without their human under any circumstance," Harry paused, Tom was looking serious with his head tilted to the side.

Harry placed the book down.

"What?"

"You have all the power," Tom stated quietly. "I depend on you for everything."

Harry didn't know how to respond. Tom was clearly taking this quite hard, regardless that he was apparently the only ever known human dæmon, the fact that he seemed less than Harry was really bothering him.

He had always been special, unique to Harry but now he was something common, written down in hundreds upon hundreds of pages.

Instinctively Harry reached across and picked up the other book they had purchased.

"Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts," Harry read.

Tom snapped to attention, eyes darting round to stare at Harry intensely, his fists clenching by his sides as he didn't move.

Harry flicked to the chapter titled named 'He Who Should Not be Named' as he tried to ignore the awkward knot stirring in his stomach. Harry forced himself to face the worst, there was no way to avoid this otherwise.

"The Dark Lord's dæmon was a giant serpent by the name of Nagini. She was just as deadly as her Lord and a creature to behold."

For some reason Harry hadn't even considered Tom once had a dæmon.

"Usually dæmons converse in the wizards native tongue, however the Dark Lord only spoke to Nagini through parseltongue, the language of snakes. This trait is more commonly known from the famous Hogwarts Founder, Salazar Slytherin which indicates the Dark Lord to be his heir."

"Slytherin?" Tom asked. Harry nodded remembering that Draco had mentioned the name.

"Nagini however disappeared with the Dark Lord, the night he failed to kill Harry Potter," Harry paused, eyes flicking up to Tom warily. Had he really taken Tom's dæmon from him, it left him feeling uncomfortable with a sour taste in his mouth.

"I guess that explains why I can speak to snakes," Tom reasoned. "And it pretty much confirms it. I am Voldemort."

Harry didn't know what to say to this so he resumed reading, before he ended up stopping again as his stomach churned.

"You also seem to have a large number of followers," Harry said as Tom's eyes lit up.

"Who are they?" Tom asked.

"They're called Death Eaters, it doesn't list their names," Harry said.

"I wonder if there is any way of contacting any of them?" Tom mused.

"No way," Harry said, shaking his head. "Chances are they'll want me dead. Plus most of them seem to be locked up in some wizard prison."

"Well they'll certainly keep you in check," Tom smiled broadly.

Harry nearly threw the book at him.

"Don't even joke about this," he said.

Tom shrugged. "Why not, it's pretty funny though. I'm meant to be some impressive Dark Lord, with a powerful army, and yet somehow I'm stuck with you and 11 years old."

"Stuck with me? That's some nerve," Harry said.

However, Tom was still grinning as he moved away from the cupboard towards Harry.

"You have to admit it though?" Tom said as he sat down on the bed casually, as if nothing awkward had ever happened between them. Harry tensed as Tom gripped his shoulders, pulling him back to rest against him.

"Come on Harry, think about it really?" Tom teased. Harry was going to pull away, but something in Tom's tone made him relax instantly.

Tom began running his hands through Harry's hair casually, knowing it would comfort him.

"A few weeks ago we were nothing, and now we're apparently enemies in some wizarding world which no one has bothered telling us about."

"I guess," Harry replied, before another thought surfaced.

"Do you think everyone will act like Hagrid?" Harry asked. "I mean, hostile towards you."

"I'm more hoping for similar reactions like Ollivander's," Tom grinned.

Harry wrinkled his nose at this, that situation didn't sound particularly appealing either. Tom sighed and twisted Harry round so they were face to face.

"Not everyone at school is going to know who I am you know?" Tom pointed out with a serious expression again.

"Why not?"

"The name Tom Riddle isn't going to be mentioned anywhere in any text book with Voldemort," he reasoned. "Particularly if everyone seems to afraid to say his name."

"Hagrid knew," Harry pointed out.

Tom pulled his hands away from Harry's hair, as he crossed his arms. "He recognised me as I am now, a child."

"So Hagrid knew Voldemort from school or something?" Harry asked.

"Most likely," Tom concluded. "It seemed more personal hate, I would have expected more fear otherwise."

"You're not scary," Harry couldn't help but laugh.

Tom grinned, teeth showing.

That didn't mean that Tom wasn't dangerous of course, he was perfectly capable of causing damage or some amount of destruction. Dudley had numerous hospital records to say so. Harry vaguely wondered if Voldemort was the reason behind it all, if Tom was inherently evil or something.

"What are Voldemort's aims?" Tom asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "He's a Dark Lord, and he goes around killing people, but we don't yet know why?"

Harry paused slightly unnerved. "Does it matter? If he kills people then that is wrong?"

Tom just looked pointedly at him.

"People don't just kill for no reason, Harry."

Harry flipped back to the first chapter and scanned the first few pages. He almost wished he hadn't. Tom was waiting patiently, head tilted to the side curiously. He forced himself to read.

"Like his ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, the Dark Lord was against the teachings of muggleborns."

"Muggleborns," Tom said thinking aloud. "It must mean magical children with muggle parents," Harry shrugged as he continued, it was the next statement which was far more a concern, for he knew Tom would agree with it completely.

"The Dark Lord's main intentions however, was the destruction of all muggles."

There was silence, before Tom spoke way too softly.

"Well I did promise you I would teach the Dursley's their lesson."

"No-" Harry began at once.

"We are better than them. We just have more of a head start now to do something about it."

"I thought you were telling me you weren't Voldemort," Harry pointed out bluntly. Tom just shrugged, a small smirk lingering on his face. Harry resisted the urge to throw the book at him again.

"So if I'm not a dæmon," Tom concluded, moving on before Harry could protest further. "I wonder where your real dæmon is?"

Harry paused, he hadn't considered this at all.

"I guess I never needed one," he said after awhile.

"It's your soul, Harry. It's not a question of whether you need it or not," Tom pointed out. "I'm just extra, you should still have a dæmon."

"Maybe Voldemort killed it when his curse backfired?" Harry offered.

Again Tom shook his head, crossing his arms. "Dæmons don't appear until you're around seven years old remember?"

"You've been around longer than that," Harry said thoughtfully. "It possible you had already taken its place."

Tom looked unconvinced.

"Anyway," Harry said stiffly. "You're my dæmon, I wouldn't choose anyone else."

"It's not a matter of what you want," Tom pointed out softly.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore currently sat in his office, a disturbed look upon his face. Hagrid was standing in front him looking distraught, as the headmaster mulled the news over. The fact that Lord Voldemort had left an impression on Harry was worrying indeed, particularly as he had managed to get close to the boy.

"We can't leave 'Arry like that," Hagrid sniffed, Ilaria nuzzling at his side to comfort him.

"No," Albus shook his head sadly as Fawkes' head lowered. "We can't."


	4. Chapter Four

Harry's last month with the Dursley's trickled by. Tom too had been just as anxious, pouring through the school text books feverishly in an attempt to pass the time.

Harry had had a look through them as well, eager to find out more about magic, but he had been more inclined to read about Voldemort and himself.

It had taken a few shaky days to admit that Tom wasn't technically his daemon, if anything Harry was still in denial. The fact that Tom didn't belong to him was bothering Harry more then he would care to admit it.

Tom knew this of course, he'd kept an exceptionally close eye on Harry since, and had spent many hours reassuring Harry that he wasn't going to go away.

When September the first arrived, Harry was a bundle of nerves and excitement. Learning magic was going to be amazing, sharing Tom again was not.

The Dursley's had been manageable at least, Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia had left him alone for the most part, Dudley particularly had kept well out of their way.

Harry had spent most of the early morning checking that he hadn't forgotten everything. Hedwig, his new owl, was perched a top of his trunk. She had arrived the day after his birthday with a note from Hagrid, wishing him happy birthday.

Of course, Tom had taken a dislike to Hedwig already, but Harry had gushed over her and promptly sent her out with a message to say thank you.

"You could at least help," Harry moaned towards Tom as he attempted to carry his trunk down the stairs.

Tom only grinned.

"I can't help you carry it, it would look like it was floating. The muggle's would get suspicious."

"We're not at the station yet," Harry snapped, as he hauled it down towards the car.

Thankfully Uncle Vernon had agreed to take him to King's Cross.

It was a quick enough journey and soon enough Harry had all his stuff laden up on a trolley at the station.

"Platform 9 and 3/4," Tom glanced over his shoulder at the ticket after Uncle Vernon had left. "That's not a platform number."

Harry felt his stomach sink, as he looked around the large timetables displayed. Sure enough, no trains were going from such a platform.

"Maybe we should ask someone?" Harry suggested quietly. He was already getting enough funny looks because of Hedwig.

Tom shook his head, as Hedwig hooted.

"These are muggles, they won't be able to help us."

"What are we supposed to do then?" Harry asked.

Tom didn't supply him with an answer as he lead the way further up the platform. Harry followed, feeling even more nervous then he already was.

The time was ticking close to eleven and still they had no further clue about what to do. Harry was beginning to panic slightly, even Tom looked slightly anxious as he eyed the large clock.

Hagrid had forgotten to tell them how to get onto the platform, if it was like Diagon Alley then would Harry and Tom not be able to notice it until someone pointed it out.

And then a voice spoke out behind them.

"Packed with muggles of course."

Harry swung around, knocking into Tom in the process. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them was pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of them – and they had dæmons.

In fact there seemed to be a pack of them, all bounding around their humans feet. Two identical huskies were jumping around, so enthusiastically that they didn't stay still for long, almost bumping into muggles in their excitement.

"Celandia, Demetria," a small male honey badger was snapping. "Calm down, you're going to knock someone over."

The huskies barely paid any attention as they instead started to bound around a small pug.

"Quit it," the dog was yapping indignantly.

"You're no fun, Bronwyn," one of the huskies teased, it sounded female as she wagged her tail happily.

Harry was totally bewildered as he shifted his gaze back to the boys and their mother. One rather taller boy was glaring at his siblings, who Harry noticed were identical as well.

"Fred," the woman sighed heavily. "Stop harassing your brother."

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," the boy protested at once. "Honestly woman, call yourself our mother? Can't you tell I'm George."

"Sorry, George dear."

"Only joking, I am Fred," he said as he lined up his trolley and he broke out into a run. Harry blinked, in an instant, Fred was gone. The two huskies tore after him, jumping happily around a number of muggles before disappearing as well.

"Okay, you next George."

George pulled his trolley round as he moved after the two huskies. Harry was watching carefully this time, eager not to miss it, but a second later he was gone.

"Percy," the woman instructed to the taller of the boys.

Instead of running, Percy leaned down to pick up Bronwyn carefully, his small pug settled in his arms as he walked slowly towards the wall between platform nine and ten.

Harry caught it this time, as Percy disappeared, but only because he knew what to expect, however it still didn't clear up his obvious problem of actually getting onto the platform.

Pulling his trunk around, he moved a bit closer. Tom following behind.

Now the group had thinned a little, Harry could see a younger red headed boy was standing beside her, a terrier by his heels.

A young red haired girl had one hand clutched tightly onto her mother's arm, the other was entwined in a pony's mane.

"Excuse me," Harry stated pulling up his courage before he lost his nerve.

The red haired woman turned and her eyes widened in surprise as her gaze flicked across to Tom.

However she didn't comment, only turned back to Harry with a smile.

"Hullo dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron and Sephronia are new, too."

She pointed at the last and youngest of her sons. His daemon was eyeing Tom up cautiously.

It appeared that the plump woman's dæmon was the honey badger, which seemed a lot calmer now the huskies had gone and weren't harassing any more muggles.

"Yes," Harry said. "The thing is-" he stumbled over his words.

"How do you get onto the platform?" Tom asked smoothly, a boyish smile gracing his features.

This practically made the little girl squeak as she hid behind her mother.

The woman's honey badger was eyeing Tom up, but it seemed satisfied enough.

"Not to worry," she said "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Best not do it at a run dear," the witch advised. "If you're scared about getting separated you can just lean against the barrier."

Harry thought this was much more appealing.

"Go on, go now before Ron and Sephrionia," she encouraged.

Harry nodded and wheeled his trolley round to face the barrier.

Leaning on the barrier sounded much more appealing, the very thought of being separated from Tom, even briefly made his stomach churn.

He couldn't help but hang onto Tom's sleeve as they leaned against the barrier.

Next second their surroundings vanished.

In place of the bleak surroundings of the barrier now stood a scarlet steam engine, smoke billowing from its chimney.

The platform was packed with witches and wizards, as Harry looked round amazed. Owls were hooting in their cages as cats meow'd, but it was the sheer number of dæmons which was totally overwhelming.

Tom nudged him in the side, as Harry steered their trolley down the platform. He walked past a group of older students who were discussing what sounded like the newest racing broom model.

Tom carried Hedwig onto the train as Harry attempted to pull along his trunk behind, he didn't get very far and dropped it on his toe painfully.

"Want a hand?" It was one of the red haired boys who Harry had followed through onto the platform.

"Yes please," Harry panted as two huskies immediately started jumping around him in circles.

"Oy, Fred. C'mere and help!"

One of the huskies promptly leapt onto Harry's trunk.

"I said help," George rolled his eyes as Fred wandered over.

" Celandia, get off," George instructed to the dæmon, who only wagged their tail happily.

"I'm helping," the female voice of Celendia pronounced.

"Hardly," George rolled his eyes, as the husky jumped off.

Between them, and with Celendia and Demetria not even pausing for breath as they just jumped around and generally got in the way, they managed to get Harry's trunk stored in the compartment. Tom was waiting patiently.

"Is that your dæmon?" George asked, nodding towards Tom.

Harry shuffled on his feet slightly.

"Yeah," before he abruptly changed subject. "How do you tell your daemons apart?" he asked, gesturing towards Celendia and Demetria who wagged their tails.

Both huskies immediately paired off, standing next to their respective twin.

"More importantly," one of the huskies spoke up. "How do we tell Fred and George apart?"

Harry blinked, that was a good point.

"They feel different," Fred explained, noticing Harry's confused expression. "Anyway, it doesn't really matter, we share dæmons."

"You share dæmons?" Tom asked, finally offering to the conversation.

"Sort of, it's more that we each have two each, they just happen to be the same ones."

"Doesn't that mean you both have to stay close to each other?" Harry asked confused.

George shook his head as his brother explained.

"As long as they are with either of us, it's fine. So I can have neither, one, or both with me," Fred grinned broadly.

"That's why you could run through the barrier without each other," Tom spoke up.

Harry thought back to the brick wall, this was true. Fred had run through with the dæmons following and then George and neither boy had been in pain from separation from their dæmons.

"Exactly," Fred grinned.

"Anyway thanks," Harry said, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightening scar.

"Blimey, you're Harry Potter?"

For the first time, both huskies stopped deadly still as Harry flattened his hair.

"Yes, I am," he began nervously.

The boy's mother called.

"Coming, Mum."

With a last look at Harry and Tom, twins and huskies both jumped off the train.

Harry let out a breath as he settled down, Tom beside him.

"Not bad," Tom commented towards him. "Dealing with fame well."

"Shut up," Harry replied.

He leaned back and looked out the window to catch the family of red heads conversation.

"Never mind that, do you think he remembers what You Know Who looks like?" one of the twins was saying.

Tom couldn't help but grin broadly at this statement as Harry rolled his eyes.

"You're not going to look the same," he pointed out with a sigh. "You'd look older."

The boys mother however had suddenly become very stern pulling Harry's attention back.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No don't you dare. As if he needs reminding of that on his first day of school."

"All right, keep your hair on."

A whistle sounded and soon enough the train began to move. Harry could hardly believe it, he was actually going to learn magic.

The compartment door slid open again and the youngest red-haired boy came in.

"Anyone sitting there? Everywhere else is full."

Harry shook his head and the boy sat down, his terrier remaining close by his heels.

"Hey, Ron."

The twins were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train – Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula down there."

"Right," Ron mumbled.

"Harry," said one of the twins "Did we introduce ourselves? Fred and George Weasley. And these are Celendia and Demetria. And this is our brother Ron and Sephronia."

Harry had worked out as much.

"This is Tom," he pointed towards Tom who didn't say a word.

The grins grinned towards them. "See you later then."

They left.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron blurted out.

Harry nodded.

"Oh – well, I thought it might have been one of Fred and George's jokes," said Ron "And have you really got – you know?"

He pointed at Harry's forehead.

Trying to look more confident then before, Harry pulled up his fringe to show his lightening scar. Ron stared.

"So that's where You-Know-Who?"

Ron's terrier seemed to be gaining more confident as he moved closer to Tom's leg, nuzzling it in greeting.

Harry lent over to pet her.

"What are you doing?" Ron rushed, terrier jumping back in alarm as they barked.

Harry jerked back startled, unsure of what he had done wrong.

"You don't touch other people's dæmons," Ron gasped, clearly taken aback over what Harry had been about to do.

"Sorry," Harry rushed apologetically. Hagrid hadn't mentioned that. "I didn't know."

Ron blinked.

"You didn't know?"

Harry felt himself feeling stupid, much in the similar way Malfoy had made him feel.

"I grew up with muggles," he offered lamely instead. "They don't have daemons."

"Oh, yeah." Ron seemed to brush the incident aside in an instant. "What are they like?"

Harry almost had to stop himself from shooting Tom a warning glance, however Tom remained surprisingly silent.

"Horrible- well not all of them," he concluded. "My Aunt, Uncle and cousin are though. How come Tom and Sephronia can touch each other then?"

Tom had interacted with Fred and George's daemon's no problem as well.

"Other dæmons usually interact with each other," Ron explained. "They usually mirror their owners reactions and emotions."

"Owners?" Tom's voice was light and delicate. Harry eyed him warily.

Ron clearly missed the threatening tone as he nodded.

A thought crossed Harry's mind.

"Are daemons usually girls?" he asked. Ilaria, Adara, Celendria Demetria and Sephronia had all been girls.

"Dæmons are usually the opposite sex," Ron explained, his eyes darted to Tom before back to Harry

Ron shifted uncomfortably before he added.

"Tom is actually quite unusual, I don't know anyone who has a dæmon who is the same sex as them."

Harry didn't know this, the books on dæmons hadn't mentioned it at all.

Tom was eyeing Sephronia carefully as he leaned down to pick her up.

Ron froze in complete fear, not daring to move or breath as Sephronia went completely still.

"Tom," Harry stated quietly. "I don't think you're meant to do that."

Tom however shot Harry a small smile, as he stroked the small dog carefully. "Why not?" he questioned quietly. "I'm just saying hello, aren't I meant to interact with other daemons not their humans?" he asked deliberately.

Ron shifted awkwardly, obviously uncomfortably as he watched his dæmon in silent horror. The dog had stilled, and was whimpering quietly.

"I think you're hurting her," Harry added again, knowing that Tom was fully aware of what he was doing.

Tom only grinned, small dog held tightly in his grip as Ron seemed to be struggling to breath.

"Well, I am still learning," Tom suggested lightly, directing his cold eyes towards Harry. "I don't really understand how I'm meant to interact with other dæmons."

"Put me down," a voice whimpered from Tom's grip.

At first Harry was thrown by the unfamiliar noise.

Sephronia, Ron's terrier was speaking.

"Seph," Ron almost pleaded, hand clutching his chest as if he was weakened.

"You feel wrong," Sephronia continued.

Harry barely drew breath, terrified by the implication Sephronia was suggesting. Of course Tom didn't feel like a proper daemon, he was Lord Voldemort in some way or another.

Tom placed her down slowly, as Sephronia raced back to Ron's side in an instant.

"Sorry," he muttered, feigning that he had caused any damage at all.

Ron looked visibly shaken as he picked Sephronia up to comfort himself.

"It's alright," he replied weakly. "You didn't know."

"Sorry," Harry added, shooting Tom a dark warning look. "We're still getting used to this whole thing."

"So how come I can interact with Sephronia but it was hurting you?" Tom asked innocently, placing a fake guilty look on his face.

"I wasn't expecting it," Ron said slowly.

Tom just continued to look apologetic but Harry knew he was anything but.

"Maybe, I'll just go," Ron finished bluntly.

"What? Why?" Harry rushed, annoyed that Tom had offended Ron. He found him pretty interesting to talk to, he wanted to know more about wizarding families.

"You clearly don't want to talk to me," Ron jerked his head at Tom.

Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Tom's just being an idiot, ignore him."

Tom shot Harry a cold glare at this.

However Ron froze, his face plastered in confusion as he stared, his dæmon still clutched in his arms.

"When I said wizards usually interact through their daemons, I mean that extends to their feelings as well."

Harry was looking blankly at him.

This statement couldn't be further from the truth. Harry and Tom often had differences in opinions, they argued often enough as it was.

Tom however was looking smug, any evidence that showed he was greater than a dæmon was good.

"Wait?" Harry began. "You think how I feel is reflected through Tom?"

Ron jerked his head down. "Well yeah, that's how daemon's work."

Harry laughed, he couldn't help it. Tom and him were close, extremely, but that didn't mean they shared the same opinions. He told Ron so.

Ron just looked astonished.

"I've never heard of that before."

Harry shrugged but Tom seemed to be losing patience, he leaned back and crossed his arms, bored of the conversation as he pulled out one of the school text books.

Harry however was eager to ask Ron more questions.

"What's it like to have three wizard brothers?"

Ron was pretty interesting to talk to, and Sephronia quite excitedly started telling him all about a sport called Quidditch, played on broomstick's.

By the time the witch with the food trolley arrived, Harry was quite warming to Ron. Tom however was quite content in remaining silent, his head in his book.

It was shortly afterwards when their compartment door slid open again.

It was Draco Malfoy, Adara balanced on his shoulder and he had other company.

"Hello again," Draco started at once with a nod towards Harry and Tom. "This is Crabbe and Camelai," he gestured his head to the boy and his hyena. "And Goyle and Olesia."

Harry blinked startled, Goyle's gorilla daemon was huge, in fact their compartment was beginning to feel quite cramp.

Crabbe's dæmon was looking a lot more threatening. His hyena had sharp teeth, which were currently grinning in a very disturbing way, small beady eyes watching the group with interest.

Harry resisted the urge to pull Tom behind him, both animals were dangerous.

"I didn't catch your last name by the way, last time we spoke you didn't mention it?" Draco pressed keenly, looking towards Tom.

"No I didn't," Tom said with a smirk.

Harry didn't like this, the way the question had been asked was deliberate, as if there was another meaning behind it.

Tom's grin only broadened. "Riddle," he offered. Harry wanted to hit him, he had done that on purpose. Anyone intelligent enough would be able to make the link.

Draco however didn't show any signs that the name meant anything to him, instead he only nodded, as if he was filing the information away.

"Who are you?" Ron interrupted.

Malfoy gave Ron a very dirty look. "Draco Malfoy," he started. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasley's have red hair, freckles and more children then they can afford."

He turned back to Harry.

"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Harry. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, but Harry didn't take it. Crabbe and Goyle's daemon's seemed to shift at the lack of response, if anything the Gorilla pulled itself up to it's full height.

Tom however didn't feel threatened as he grinned.

"Naturally, I'm sure we'll be seeing more of each other Draco."

This seemed to satisfy the blonde, who just smirked back, casting Ron in a cold look.

Harry couldn't help but grit his teeth.

"Anyway we'll catch you later," Draco continued, almost in a bored voice. The trio left, leaving the four of them alone.

Harry groaned. "Thanks for that," he shot Tom a cold look.

"What?" Tom asked coolly, crossing his arms. "I can't make friends too?"

"Course you can," Harry agreed. "But I don't want anything to do with Malfoy."

"And I don't want anything to do with Weasley," Tom offered instead. Ron jerked at this, he clearly hadn't picked up on earlier.

Harry sighed. It often came down to this, compromising.

"Fine. We'll spent time with Malfoy and Ron equally?"

"Agreed," Tom nodded with a grin.

Ron just looked stunned.

"Do you usually do this?"

Harry shook his head. "Compromise sure, but not on this scale."

"Well I'd be careful," Ron added, Sephronia tucked in close. "If Malfoy doesn't know that you and Tom act separately, he'll think you share the same opinions of Tom."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Great," he muttered, ignoring Tom's more then innocent grin.

The journey was passing relatively slowly, but Harry was finding it fun enough to talk to Ron. Tom had resumed reading his book as he promptly ignored them.

"You must be miles ahead in magic?" Harry added gloomily after a long discussion.

Ron shook his head.

"Fred gave us a spell to use," Sephronia offered.

Harry was intrigued as Ron pulled his wand out his wand.

"I'll show you on Scabbers," he offered. "My pet rat."

He held his wand carefully as he cleared his throat.

His rat didn't even flinch as Ron muttered something that certainly sounded like nonsense to Harry. Nothing happened.

Ron flushed, but he barely had anytime to explain anything as the door slid open.

"Has anyone seen a toad," a girl began at once, an otter dæmon held in her arms. "Neville's lost one."

The boy beside her shifted sadly.

And then she got distracted. "Oh, are you doing magic?" she questioned Ron excitedly.

Ron fumbled awkwardly.

"Let's see" she pressed.

Ron cleared his throat and started the spell again.

"Are you sure that's a real spell," she wrinkled her nose. "Only, I've tried out a few before, and they all worked for me. I'm Hermione Granger by the way," she added in a rush. "And this is Ramiron," she nodded towards her otter.

Ron was looking disheartened as the other boy spoke up.

"Sorry," he mumbled. "Did you see my toad?"

"Trevor looks like this," the small rabbit standing next to him offered. And in an instant they changed shape, no longer a rabbit, but a small knobbly toad sat before them all.

Harry couldn't help but stare. Ron and Sephronia too looked astonished.

"How did you do that?" Tom asked the dæmon curiously.

The dæmon flicked back to a rabbit in an instant, but before the boy could answer Hermione butted in.

"On very rare occasions if the witch or wizard has suffered emotional trauma it can be known for their dæmon to change shape to a different animal."

It was a text book answer.

Then she seemed to realise what she had just said as she shut her mouth hurriedly.

There was an awkward silence as Neville's dæmon shifted from animal to animal, clearly showing their discomfort.

Neville looked absolutely stricken as he paled.

"I-" Neville fumbled. "I don't know about that. Cyrilla has always been able to change."

"Liar," Tom whispered so quietly that only Harry could hear.

"Well I think it's pretty cool," Harry ignored Tom as he smiled encouragingly towards Neville.

Cyrilla settled in an instant, her form becoming an adorable baby elephant, her trunk tooting in the air happily.

Neville shifted from foot to foot as he grinned slightly.

"Thanks," he murmured.

Cyrilla bounded up to Tom, her trunk nuzzling at his side.

Tom looked unsure, as if not aware of what Harry had gotten him into as he stiffened, hand falling out slowly to bump Cyrilla gently on her head.

"How come you are human?" Neville asked Tom seemingly gaining a little more courage.

Tom glanced up, still with an enthusiastic Cyrilla filling half the carriage.

Harry was warming to Neville already.

Tom looked totally out of his comfort zone, before he smoothed his face into a fake charming grin.

"No idea," he lied.

"Anyway," Interrupted Hermione. "We're nearly there. You'd better change into your Hogwarts robes."

Hermione and Neville left, leaving Ron, Sephriona. Harry and Tom alone.

Harry and Ron changed into their robes as the Hogwarts express began to slow. It wasn't long before they were standing out on the cold platform.

"I wonder what happened to Neville," Harry muttered quietly. "Something happened in his past, otherwise there is no other reason Cyrilla would change like that."

"I could feel something wrong," Tom muttered. "It was like Cyrilla couldn't settle, disturbing almost."

They joined the queue of other first years as Hagrid led them away from the other students.

"Yeh'll get your firs' sight o' Hogwarts n a sec," Hagrid called.

Harry couldn't help but stare at the huge castle, numerous turrets sticking out all over it, even Tom looked impressed as he stared.

It wasn't long before they were packed into dozens of small boats as they glided across the lake to the school.

Neville's dæmon had turned into a dolphin, splashing through the waves happily. Harry watched astonished, the fact that a dæmon didn't settle on any form seemed to be such an advantage. Although he would never trade Tom for anything else, he couldn't help but feel envious, regardless of the constant stares other people kept shooting their way.

The rest was mostly a blur, as the group entered a small chamber off the Hall where the other students were gathered. Professor McGonagall, a stern witch with a cat dæmon instructed them to wait.

Then something happened which made him jump – several people behind him screamed, their dæmons jumping close to them.

Neville's daemon, Cryllia, changed in an instant. Her rabbit form sitting in his arms, flicking into a mouse as she scurried into Neville's top pocket to hide.

About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, as they stopped short, noticing the first years gathered around.

"I say, what are you all doing here?" one of the ghosts began.

"New students!" A little fat monk replied grinning merrily. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hufflepuff was my old house," the monk proclaimed proudly.

The group of ghosts seemed content in breaking into discussions regarding their own sorting. Harry barely listened, instead he started scanning them interested, some had obvious wounds which were probably the most likely cause of death. Others looked like they may have just drifted off in their sleep.

However, Harry froze as his eyes came to a stop. One of the ghosts was staring straight back and he was horrific, silver blood stained his robes and his face was gaunt with blank eyes. Harry barely drew breath as the ghost just watched him and Tom.

"I do hope you will return to Slytherin," the man spoke quietly.

Harry's fists tightened into Tom's clothes as his heart pounded, he hadn't anticipated people would recognise Tom already. Tom had promised him they wouldn't.

This certainly seemed to catch the other ghosts attention, as they too turned to look at them both.

"Oh my-" The fat monk began instantly.

One female ghost, with very long shimmering hair, fixed her gaze at Tom, her lips thinning as an absolutely furious look crossed her face. She barely hesitated as she turned her back and floated through the wall, without so much as another look.

"I'm sorry," Tom spoke back carefully, ignoring the ghost who had just left. "I believe we're unacquainted?"

The man's unnerving expression didn't even change and Harry felt some of the other first years shiver.

"Of course," there was a long pause as he nodded his head curtly. "Allow me to introduce myself to you, Tom Riddle. I am known as the Baron."

"The Baron?" Ron blurted out. "The Bloody Baron?"

Some of the ghosts shot Ron a warning glance as the Baron didn't offer an answer.

"I don't understand-" A ghost who was wearing a ruff and tights started, and then his eyes slid onto Harry who was clutching Tom's shirt so tightly now.

"Ah of course, Harry Potter," he murmured, almost sadly, some of the first years began to whisper. It was the same look Hagrid and Illaria had given him, one of sympathy and a horrible look of understanding.

"Sir Nicolas de Mimsey-Porpington," he introduced himself, his head looked like it wobbled as he dipped it slightly.

"Move along now," a sharp voice interrupted. "The sortings about to start."

Harry had never been more grateful, as he pulled Tom firmly away from the ghostly watching eyes.

McGonagall shuffled them all into a line. Many others were clutching their dæmons tightly, clearly trying to draw comfort from each other, although that still didn't stop a lot of confused glances darting their way.

Adara, Malfoy's ferret daemon was perched on his shoulder proudly, looking far too comfortable. Tom only shot Harry a glance, one that he supposed was meant to be comforting as he pulled Harry's hand into his own.

How could Tom be so calm about this, only a few weeks ago and Harry had been the only one to see him, and already Tom was striving as he held himself tall. Harry guessed it came naturally with being a Dark Lord or something.

Harry followed a sandy haired boy who had a small shimmering fox in his arms, Ron was behind him, Sephronia close by his heels, although she kept her distance from Tom.

They walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. It was lit my thousand of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. Hundreds of shimmering daemons were running around, some were birds, flying high in circle's to get a good view.

There was even a giraffe standing in one corner, a blue robed student chatting happily to them. Most dæmons were small animals, sitting neatly in their witches or wizards arms.

Harry tore his eyes away to glance up at the ceiling.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts a History," Hermione was whispering, Ramiron was curled up tightly in her arms.

Harry remembered Tom telling him something similar.

The first years all collected at the front of the room, gathering together in front of the teachers with the students at the four tables behind them.

Professor McGonagall stepped forwards and placed a four legged stool down in front of the first years, which her cat daemon jumped a top, a battered wizards hat held in it's mouth.

The cat placed the old hat down carefully on the stool. Harry glanced around, not quite sure what was going on. Everyone else in the hall was watching the hat patiently.

And then it burst into song.

Harry glanced at Tom who was listening in rapt attention. Although he had read more about the Hogwarts houses, it made more sense now to hear the hat explaining each house and their traits.

The whole Hall burst into applause.

"I'm going to kill Fred," Ron was muttering. "He was going on about fighting a troll."

Harry felt relieved, trying on a hat didn't seem that bad.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and started reading out names. Her dæmon eyeing them all carefully.

Hermione and Ramiron both went into Gryffindor. Harry heard Ron groan beside him. Neville and Cryllia also went into Gryffindor, whereas Draco and Adara went straight into Slytherin as expected.

And then it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall called out.

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the halls.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

Harry moved up to sit on the stool, feeling rather foolish and anxious. Tom appeared to be content, unmoving in the small crowd of first years, but McGonagall seemed unsatisfied, after all, everyone else had been accompanied by their dæmons.

She held the sorting hat as she gestured for Tom to come up and join him. Harry wished she hadn't.

The effect was almost as bad a second time.

The students seemed to buzz even more as Tom stepped up for everyone to see.

"Is that a human dæmon-?"

"That's not normal."

"That's Potter's dæmon-?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was a Hall full of people craning to get a good look at him and Tom.

Next second he was looking at the inside of the hat feeling a bit foolish.

"Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. "Now, this is unusual, certainly makes this more difficult."

Harry didn't know what to say, so he just remained quiet.

The hat seemed not to mind this as it continued its mutterings.

"Plenty of courage, and a great deal of ambition, certainly conflicting, but that is to be expected."

Harry would have laughed out loud at this, he certainly wasn't ambitious.

"Oh no, not you Mr Potter," the hat agreed. "That would make things easier, I've never sorted two people at once before you see?"

"You mean Tom?" Harry thought.

"Certainly," the hat agreed. "Although he seems set on retracing steps."

"You can hear me?" Tom voice echoed sharply into Harry's head. It was confusing, Harry had never shared thoughts with Tom before.

"Oh yes," The sorting hat continued. "Lord Voldemort definitely made a perfect Slytherin. It would be wise to place you there, however Mr Potter on the other hand-" The hat trailed off and Harry had a funny feeling it had been deliberate.

"Hmm, difficult indeed," the hat offered again instead.

Tom didn't contribute any more as Harry was left thinking.

"Of course Slytherin wouldn't suit you, Mr Potter," the sorting hat spoke his thoughts aloud. "Otherwise I would have put you their already. No, Gryffindor is the house for you."

Harry felt his mouth run dry, surely the hat wouldn't place them in different houses, that was physically impossible.

"But one thing you have so very much in common," the sorting hat chipped in. "You are both fiercely loyal to each other."

"Not Hufflepuff," Tom snapped. "You will not put us there," his voice sounded like a command.

"Where do you suggest then?" The sorting hat mused lightly. "You are going to have to compromise one way or another."

"Lord Voldemort was a Slytherin," Tom stated simply as if this determined the answer.

"Wait a minute," Harry began to argue. "Just because you're a Dark Lord doesn't give you right to dictate what house I go in."

Although Harry couldn't see Tom he knew was smirking.

"Which house we go in," Tom stressed. "And I have every right."

The hat seemed quite happy to let them argue it out.

"Why can't we go in Gryffindor?" Harry thought.

"I have a reputation to look after," Tom stated deadly seriously.

Harry would have hit him if he could.

"Stop using Lord Voldemort as an excuse to get what you want. It's not fair."

Tom didn't respond as Harry tried to get his head round the situation. It was horrible, having to decide now.

The reason he was not inclined to say Slytherin was because he didn't want the stigma for Tom that went with Lord Voldemort, Draco Malfoy too had portrayed the house in such a way that was negative to Harry. Plus Harry couldn't think of a worse house with regards to his future, he didn't want to be in any spotlight.

However there was the fact that Gryffindor didn't match Tom at all.

Harry took a deep breath, wanting to come to some sort of reasonable decision, but the hat had already opened its mouth to shout.

"Gryffindor," the hat boomed as it was pulled off his head.

Straight away Harry's eyes locked guiltily onto Tom's, he hadn't made a decision, but the hat clear had.


	5. Chapter Five

Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table, deaf to the surrounding applause. The Weasley twins were on their feet, and Percy and his dæmon Bronwyn greeted him enthusiastically.

Harry's head however was spinning as he sat down, Tom beside him. Tom was angry, but there was little Harry could do as they waited for the rest of the sorting to finish. Ron too, went into Gryffindor, causing Sephronia to jump around happily with Bronwyn, Celendia and Demetria.

It wasn't until Professor Dumbledore announced the start of the feast and the food appeared did Harry turn to Tom.

"I don't know what happened," he started at once. "I hadn't-"

"You didn't even care," Tom shot back, at once attracting the attention of their fellow Gryffindor's.

"I didn't know the hat was going to try and place us in different houses-" Harry tried again.

"Like you gave me a fair chance," Tom stated frostily.

"Look, I'm sorry," Harry gestured his hands wildly.

"Let me guess," Ron interrupted awkwardly, nodding towards Tom awkwardly. "Slytherin?"

Harry nodded dully, as the others only gaped.

"You were sorted into different houses?" Hermione said. "Is that even possible?"

"I guess," Harry offered disheartened.

"Ouch, that's got to hurt," Percy Weasley contributed, as he tucked into his potatoes. "I've never heard of that you know. That's got to be difficult, particularly if-"

"Tom," Harry answered.

"If Tom is a Slytherin, that's totally opposite from Gryffindor."

"Tom's a Slytherin?" Now the Weasley twins had joined in the conversation as Harry groaned. He wished he'd just remained silent. He kept forgetting others could directly see his reactions with Tom.

Tom too, seemed unamused by this new topic of conversation, but he took it in his stride as he only smirked.

"Which technically means, your new lion fits into both houses, dæmons and humans are meant to be alike after all."

This seemed to disturb some of the older students. The first years though didn't look phased as Harry rolled his eyes.

"That's cool," the sandy haired boy said, still clutching onto his fox, before smiling broadly. "Seamus Finnigan," he shook Harry's hand and nodded towards Tom.

Thankfully, the rest of the feast seemed to pass relatively quickly as their new classmates chatted about their backgrounds. Harry however, was still feeling incredibly guilty. What didn't help however, was when the ghost from earlier joined them at their table. He seemed to seek out Harry and Tom as he sat down opposite them. Sir Nicolas got straight to the point, as he eyed Tom warily.

"You know who you are?"

"I am aware," Tom replied with a clearly a forced smile. He didn't to move an inch. "As is Harry," he added. Harry wished Tom hadn't said anything, it was probably because he was mad at Harry why he was doing so.

Not for the first time, ghostly eyes shifted across to Harry. The other surrounding first years were watching with complete confusion.

"Is that so?" Nick commented lightly.

Harry grit his teeth. "Yes, why does it matter?"

"I only ask that you be cautious," Nick said lightly.

Now it was Harry's turn to look annoyed. "I don't need your warnings."

"Perhaps," Nick conceded. "But Tom Riddle was the master of manipulation and charm, it is only natural that you have been taken in by him, particularly due to your close proximity."

Harry clenched his fists furiously, a retort already on his lips ready to defend Tom. However his dæmon was quicker, Tom's face still oddly impartial as his hand darted out to hold Harry still.

"It's okay Harry, Sir Nicolas is only worried about your well being." Even his tone was off. It was such a diplomatic answer that is totally threw Harry off guard. "Which under the circumstances is understandable," Tom continued.

Harry opened his mouth to protest, of course it wasn't understandable, who else knew Tom better than he did. However, he didn't get very far as another voice spoke out behind him.

"I didn't pick you for a Gryffindork, Potter."

Harry and Tom swiveled round to come face to face with the sour face of Draco Malfoy.

"I don't need grief from you as well," Harry grumbled, head falling into his hands.

Draco blinked, completely thrown by this response, as his ferret Adara jumped around his ankles. The surrounding Gryffindor's just looked sympathetically at him.

"Harry and Tom were sorted into different houses," Hermione spoke up loudly. "Tom's a Slytherin, but the hat picked Gryffindor."

Harry snapped his head up to glare at her, it was obvious he didn't want that information broadcast any more then it already was, partially not to the Slytherin's.

"It's probably because you're the wizard," Ron offered with a shrug. Tom eyed up Sephronia again at this comment, and she promptly hid behind Ron's leg.

Draco seemed to have recovered, because now instead of his shock, he looked back towards Tom, a smirk breaking out.

"Really? Well that changes things. In that case, you'll have to visit our common room from time to time."

"You can't do that," Hermione began at once. "It's against the rules."

"No one asked you," Draco cut in, Adara reared up so her fur was sticking up aggressively as Ramiron, Hermione's otter, retreated.

Harry was finding this totally confusing. He'd never had to track other people's dæmon's before, like Ron had said, they seemed to mirror their witch or wizards emotions. Hermione just glared back coldly and scooped Ramiron back up into her arms, before she stood up, with her nose in the air, and stormed away to sit further down the Gryffindor table.

"I would suggest you remain in the Gryffindor common room," Nick offered in Harry's direction.

Draco ignored him, but he seemed satisfied with how things had developed. After promising Draco and Adara that they would indeed visit the Slytherin common room, Draco left once more, much to Ron's relief and Sephronia's mutterings.

Harry sighed heavily, head spinning as he glanced back up to the teachers table. It happened so suddenly, that Harry wasn't entirely sure what had happened.

"Ouch," Harry clasped a hand to his head as it burned.

"What is it?" Percy asked, as Tom shot him a wary look.

"Nothing," Harry stated awkwardly, resisting the urge to rub his head. He glanced back up to the teacher's table anxiously, but it didn't happen again.

* * *

It was several hours later, when Harry was finally relieved to be heading out of the great hall. He'd been waiting for hours to speak to Tom privately, and he could hardly take it anymore.

Percy and Bronwyn lead them up to a warm common room, decorated in red and gold. Seamus, Neville and a boy named Dean Thomas, made their way up to the top of the tower, their dæmons leading the way excitedly.

Harry trudged up the staircase, eager to just sleep. Yawning, he climbed into the very large bed, pulling the drapes closed around them. He ignored the funny looks Seamus and Dean were giving him.

Tom was already sitting on their bed, head tilted.

"You're still mad at me," Harry stated.

"Mmm," Tom mumbled, his eyes cold, well aware that his fellow classmates were still moving around the dormitory.

Harry sighed heavily, rubbing his head which was aching slightly.

"I'm sorry-" Harry began again, but he was interrupted as Tom moved to grab his wrist tightly, pulling him forwards so that they were much closer.

He placed a cooling hand on Harry's forehead.

Harry tried to move back, but Tom held him still, his eyes flicking over Harry expertly.

"Aren't you mad still?" Harry tested.

"Of course I am," Tom replied quietly, still examining Harry closely. "Are you okay?"

Harry shifted, remembering how his scar had flared up painfully at the feast.

"I'm fine."

Tom gave him a disbelieving look, before twisting Harry round so he was lying on his back.

"Go to sleep," Tom instructed at once. "You'll feel better."

Harry tried to sit up, but Tom held his firmly in place.

"I didn't choose-"

"Slytherin is against everything you ever wanted," Tom cut across quietly. "You never had any ambition, it's no wonder the sorting hat favoured you."

It was difficult now Harry was lying down, as he tried to blink back the sleep that was washing over him.

"That doesn't mean it's fair," Harry mumbled.

"No, it doesn't," Tom agreed quietly. Another thought struck Harry in his tired state.

"I don't understand, why were you acting so calm in front of Nearly Headless Nick? He had no right."

Harry had been angry, so it had been unusual for Tom to be the opposite. Tom paused shortly before offering his answer.

"He knows me, and more importantly knows what I become. His reaction is going to be common."

"So?" Harry pointed out, forcing back a yawn. "That doesn't explain why you just let him say the things he did. You're not Voldemort."

"I am Voldemort, their enemy," Tom replied without blinking. "And you are their hero Harry. According to the wizarding society we do not belong together."

"I don't care what anyone else thinks," Harry stated.

"I know," Tom whispered as he settled down beside him.

Harry rolled over to stare at him, he hated this. Tom was different from Voldemort. The dormitory light flicked off as Harry heard the others settle down.

Harry swallowed, staring as Tom through the darkness.

"We're okay aren't we?" Harry whispered.

Tom just smiled tiredly, as his eyes also started to shift closed.

"We're always okay, Harry. But you owe me."

* * *

Whispers followed Harry and Tom the moment they left the Gryffindor common room next morning.

Tom thankfully seemed to adapt naturally to it, head held high as he walked confidently from class to class. Harry hated it, ducking his head, as he tried to ignore the stares that followed them.

On top of the students and their dæmons trying to constantly get a look at them both, Harry and Tom had to struggle with the numerous staircases and passageways around the castle. Hogwarts was huge, and Harry had a funny feeling it was going to take seven years just to learn every secret it had to offer.

Ron and Sephronia had joined them for most of their explorations around the castle, and they had so far succeeded in getting lost of multiple occasions. Peeves, the schools poltergeist, had more then once pointed them in the wrong direction.

Even worse then Peeves, was the caretaker Argus Filch. Everyone knew Filch hated the students with a fierce passion. He had a cat called Mrs Norris. Ron explained that Filch used her as a dæmon substitute.

"Why would he do that?" Harry asked, after Filch has chased them away from the forbidden corridor they had accidentally been trying to open.

Tom rolled his eyes at him. "Haven't you noticed, Mrs Norris is solid, that means he doesn't have one."

This seemed to be a growing trend.

"So he lost dæmon, like Professor Quirrell?"

"Nah," Ron answered. "He's a squib, never had one to begin with."

Harry had never come across the term squib before, he made a note to ask Tom later, he'd probably read about the term somewhere.

"And Mrs Norris can see dæmons?"

"Yeah," Sephronia confirmed, "I'd love to scare her off," she bared her dog like teeth and growled.

"And...squibs," Harry tested the word. "Can't see dæmons?"

"That's right," Ron nodded. "Fred reckons that's the reasons Filch hates the students so much. I mean, imagine living in a castle where you can't even see or hear half the population."

Considering Harry had always had the complete opposite problem growing up, he could easily imagine Filch feeling like an outsider from everyone else.

* * *

Harry and Tom's first few lessons started pretty well. Harry was beginning to relax about the situation, when it was clear that most of the class were fairly new to magic too, even though they had grown up with wizarding families.

It wasn't until Professor McGonagall's class did Harry and Tom have any problems. She started the lesson promptly, and it was immediately apparent, she was not someone to cross.

Straight after McGonagall's initial introduction, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Professor, you're registered as an animagis aren't you?" she pressed eagerly.

Harry perked up at this, he really wanted to see how this worked. To answer her question, Professor McGonagall only smile thinly, before she disappeared in an instant.

Harry blinked, thrown by this change, before Tom nudged him and pointed towards Einaris. McGonagall's dæmon was no longer transparent, instead he was completely solid, and looked exactly like a normal cat.

He jumped off the table, before instantly splitting back into Professor McGonagall.

"In my animagis form, Einaris is no longer conscious," she explained,, as Hermione scribbled to take notes. "You may find that in my dæmon's form, I can now interact with other humans. It does not cause me, or Einaris pain."

Einaris looked slightly disorientated as he shook his head briefly to gain his new bearings.

"Can anyone learn to do that Professor?" Seamus asked eagerly, as his fox jumped around excitedly.

"It is an extremely dangerous process, one that is heavily monitored by the ministry of magic," she explained sternly. "Any witch or wizard attempting to do so, risks losing their dæmon indefinitely."

This seemed to kill any enthusiasm as Seamus' fox stilled, looking very frightened as she didn't dare move. Other dæmons looked just as subdued, as if suddenly afraid their humans would accidentally lose them.

McGonagall then gave everyone the task of turning a match into a needle. Einaris sat at the head of the classroom on her desk eyeing them all carefully, as McGonagall walked between the students, correcting them on their wand movements and pronunciations.

Harry unfortunately wasn't having much luck, Ron too was starting to jab his wand frustratingly in the matches direction, as Sephronia started growling at it.

Harry slumped back in his chair after half an hour, disheartened by his non-existent progress.

"Let me?" Tom asked, offering out his hand.

Harry handed over his wand, magic was turning out to be a lot more difficult then he had anticipated. Tom leveled the wand carefully, before speaking the incantation. The matchstick turned into the perfect needle in an instant.

Harry's mouth dropped in amazement, as he picked up the needle.

"How did you do that?" he began excitedly, but it was at that point that Professor McGonagall appeared.

Her eyes locked onto Tom holding Harry's wand and then the needle in Harry's hand. Harry had never seen someone's lips go that white before. She seemed to take a moment to recover.

"Dæmons are not allowed to use wands, it's a school rule," Professor McGonagall snapped. "Five points from Gryffindor."

Harry opened his mouth to protest but Ron kicked him under the table, most likely to stop him losing any more house points. Tom's expression was unreadable, and he didn't say a word as he passed the wand back to Harry.

"She just made that up," Harry grumbled furiously as they trudged out the class. "I mean, that rule makes no sense. Normal dæmons are animals, so of course they can't use a wand."

Tom didn't respond to him, his expression still frighteningly guarded.

"You can still practice in the common room," Ron offered with a shrug, Sephronia brushed against Tom's leg to try and comfort him, but thought better of it as Tom glared down at her.

"Fred, George, Celendia and Demetria always lose tons of points for Gryffindor," Sephronia offered instead to Harry.

"It's not about house points," Harry argued stubbornly.

The rest of the week didn't fair much better. Harry had really been looking forward to Defence Against the Dark Arts, but by the time they got to class he was feeling a little worse for wear.

"Can we skip this one?" Harry asked, rubbing his head as it began to sting.

Tom was by his side instantly, his hand gently pulling Harry's away from his dark locks.

"What's wrong?" Tom pressed anxiously, examining Harry thoroughly with a sweep of his eyes. His other hand moving to lie coolly on Harry's forehead.

Harry shook his head, his eyes averted. "I don't know," he hated being ill.

Tom's expression darkened a shade. "Harry?" He pressed.

Harry relented. "It hurts, my scar."

"I think something is wrong," Tom murmured. "You've never felt pain in your scar before-" He stopped.

"Maybe it's because Quirrell lost his dæmon?" Harry frowned, not really wanting to enter the classroom. "I mean if you're excess and he doesn't have one?"

"I don't think so," Tom replied, "All the other dæmons avoid him."

"They do?"

Harry hadn't noticed.

Tom nodded, but he averted his eyes, as if he was deliberately remaining quiet. Thankfully the lesson was uneventful, in fact Quirrell spent most of the lesson being scared of his own shadow.

When Friday finally arrived, Harry was more the relieved, the weekend couldn't come sooner. Hagrid had invited Harry down for tea (Tom hadn't been mentioned in the letter), but even so, they still had a morning of potions to get through.

Harry was already apprehensive, and the start of the lesson soon proved that it wasn't going to get any better. As soon as Snape had taken the register, his bat dæmon hadn't moved at all as she hung from the ceiling, he locked black eyes onto Harry.

"Potter, what would you get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Snape snapped.

Harry hid his surprised expression, it was clear that Snape loathed him from the cold look he was giving Harry.

He had only read some of his textbooks but he hadn't expected to be bombarded like this on his very first lesson, fortunately he had help from someone who had thoroughly read the text books already.

Harry flicked his eyes towards Tom only briefly who was sitting beside him, he rolled his eyes.

"Draught of Living Death," he answered.

Harry tried to suppress his own grin as Snape looked absolutely livid.

"This is a potions class," Snape started at once, completely ignoring Tom. "I believe I asked you a question Potter, not you dæmon."

Harry couldn't stop himself from answering back as he replied defensively.

"His name is Tom."

There was an intake of breath from the class, Neville's dæmon transformed into lizard, and took refuge in his owners top pocket.

"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape hissed, his bat didn't move, remaining perfectly still as she hung from the ceiling.

The Gryffindor's at once broke out into groans. Draco looked absolutely delighted, Adara perking up on his shoulder.

"What?" Harry countered at once, not thinking about the repercussions, and still annoyed about how McGonagall had reacted. "Why shouldn't Tom be allowed to answer?"

Snape fixed Harry with a very cold glare.

"Do you see any other dæmons contributing to this lesson?" Snape asked, hand gesturing to their surroundings. The class seemed to shift at this, shrinking back encase Snape decided to single any of them out as an example.

"No Sir-" Harry started but Snape cut across him before he had time to argue.

"And is this not a school for witches and wizards?" Snape asked mockingly.

"Yes Sir, but-" Harry tried again.

"Then please tell me how you plan to pass any of your exams when you don't plan on learning any of the material?"

Harry's fists clenched, this just wasn't fair. Tom was more than a dæmon, they all could see that.

A warm hand enclosed softly on his shoulder.

"It's okay, Harry," Tom stated quietly.

Harry wanted to argue, to make sure that Tom should not be ignored. Surely the staff knew who he was, they shouldn't treat him like nothing.

However Tom wasn't finished yet as he spoke softly.

"My apologies professor, I am merely adjusting to the customs which are expected of me as a simple dæmon," Tom's voice was laced with over the top sincerity.

Snape clearly didn't miss the jab as his eyes narrowed. Harry swallowed thickly.

"Potter control your dæmon," Snape snapped.

Tom only squeezed Harry's shoulder, warning him to not react, as the class waited with breaths held.

"Yes, sir," Harry bit out. He was already wishing he'd learnt some of those nasty curses he'd read about.

Snape set them up into pairs to brew a simple potion to cure boils. Ron and Sephronia had paired up with Harry and Tom. Tom was lingering by Harry's shoulder as Harry stared at the potion, he wasn't sure if he was doing anything right.

"I can always give you some pointers," Tom stated offhandedly.

Harry couldn't help but agree as he nodded his head gently. Tom was naturally good at this sort of thing, and other people's dæmon's were currently suggesting other ideas to each other.

"I don't think Snape likes me much," Harry whispered, wrinkling his nose as he gazed over at Tom.

"Snape doesn't like anyone," Ron offered quietly as he stirred the potion three times clockwise.

"He seems to particularly hate me," Harry whispered back. Tom only flicked his gaze to Harry, nodding in silent agreement.

Harry was thankful to finally get out of potions after several long hours, but he was still feeling annoyed.

"It's as if the teachers don't want you to learn any magic," Harry argued loudly, once they were alone. Tom halted, turning back to him, as they paused in an empty corridor.

"Which is to be expected," he said gently, although his voice was cold. "It is clear they know my identity. They are scared."

"Good," Harry couldn't help but bite out, still annoyed. It just wasn't fair.

Tom smiled at this, looking fondly at him.

"They are right to be cautious of me," Tom added gently.

This only annoyed Harry more, as he shot a look back at Tom. Sure, Dudley had had a few trips to the hospital, but that didn't mean Tom was going to kill anyone. Harry was sure of that.

"I mastered the transfiguration in an instant," Tom continued, although Harry could tell the makings of a grin were at the corner of his mouth. "Obviously, Lord Voldemort's skill is still a part of me somehow."

Still feeling angry and resentful towards the teachers Harry made his decision.

"I think we should go and find the library," he suggested. "Test how much you can actually do. Then we can give them a real reason to be scared."

Tom caught on in an instant, a smirk crossing his face, as his eyes shined.

* * *

Dumbledore gazed over his half moon spectacles. His office was currently full of a number of his professor's, more specifically, the ones who had been teaching the first years over the past week.

"It is concerning," Minerva was saying to her colleagues. "Potter behaves normally, although rather quiet, he is fine to teach in class. He's like any other first year."

Einaris continued, his cat eyes sharp. "Riddle, however, is already capable of basic magic, he completed the transfiguration in an instant."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as Fawkes perched above his chair.

"Unfortunately, this is to be expected. Lord Voldemort-" A shudder ran around the room. "Is a master of magic. I hardly think his ability to cast spells is going to be affected by his current state."

"It is really him then?" Minerva pushed anxiously.

"Yes," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I'm afraid that Lord Voldemort is very much alive, in one way or another. Voldemort has indeed been reduced to Harry's dæmon."

There was a long awkward pause, as if no one really wanted to admit what had been happening for the past week.

"Does Potter even have a real dæmon?" Poppy asked tentatively.

"I would think so," Dumbledore mused. "If anything Tom is only blocking it, even if it isn't intentional."

"Potter has to know the truth," Minerva whispered.

"How can he?" Poppy countered aghast. "You Know Who killed his parents. How do you think the poor boy will feel when he finds out who Tom is?"

"Oh, the boy is already aware of that," Severus stated coolly. Laraine, his bat dæmon was settled on his shoulder, eyes closed and ears pointed up, listening carefully.

"What-?" Minerva began stunned. "How can he know?"

"I have already had this theory confirmed by Sir Nicolas," Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I am unsure how, but Harry is aware of who Tom really is, which of course leads to the next question. Does Lord Voldemort remember anything before he was reduced to a dæmon?"

There was silence, and it was horrible as no one even dared breath. Quirrell actually shuddered, his eyes wide and alarmed as Poppy's hedgehog curled tight into a ball.

Dumbledore seemed to take pity on them all, as he answered with a heavy sigh.

"Fortunately I think this is not the case. If Voldemort had any memory, I believe he would have reached out to the wizarding world sooner and reacquainted himself with his followers."

This offered no comfort, as a number of dæmons shifted. There was a brief silence before Severus spoke coolly.

"There is also the fact that the boy has accepted his dæmon to be the Dark Lord, It is alarming and also means Potter may be susceptible to the dark arts."

"It is something we may have to be constantly aware of. However, I think it is nothing short of encouraging that Harry was placed in Gryffindor and not Lord Voldemort's old house," Dumbledore said softly. "The most logical option now though, would be to remove Tom Riddle, before he has a chance to develop into anything more dangerous."

"No," a voice hissed furiously.

Everyone turned to see Severus' dæmon, Laraine with her wings spread fully, teeth bared. She looked ready to take flight.

"You cannot remove a dæmon," she batted her wings aggressively, as Severus remained tight lipped.

"I agree," Einaris nodded his cat head towards Laraine. "A wizard cannot live without a dæmon, it's inhuman, regardless of who the dæmon is."

Other dæmon's nodded their agreement, while their professor's looked uncertain.

Dumbledore glanced towards Fawkes. "What are your feeling towards this suggestion?"

Fawkes' eyes pierced Dumbledore's own blue. "Regardless of the different circumstances in which Tom Riddle has grown, Lord Voldemort cannot live. Combined with the a strong possibility Harry has a suppressed dæmon, I believe your suggestion is the best course of action."

"I would like to remind you of what you are suggesting," Minerva interrupted, her own face pale. "To remove a dæmon, requires a dementor. You cannot subject Potter to the dementors kiss, that is-" her voice trailed off, there was no need to go on, the suggestion was too horrific.

"There are other ways of removing a dæmon then using a dementor," Dumbledore offered gently. "I would not dream of hurting Harry. Using a dementor would also risk destroying Harry's true dæmon."

However, this seemed to do little to settle his colleagues.

"Removing his dæmon would still be hurting him," Laraine hissed. Severus flicked his eyes towards her, before raising a hand to brush her gently on the head.

"Be calm," he stated coolly, and then he flicked his black eyes over to Quirrell, who looked out of place with his lack of shimmering animal beside him.

"I feel like we should seek the opinion of the one wizard here, who fully understands these implications. Quirinus, what do you think we should do with the boy?"

Quirrell squeaked, as if afraid of the question. He took a moment to compose himself.

"W...we...can...cannot...t...take...the...b...boys dæmon. P...Potter would n...never be t...the same...a...again"

"Exactly," Einaris agreed, as if this solved the argument.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, as he seemed to weigh up the situation with care. The other teachers who were still looking disturbed, their dæmons staying close, unnerved by what was being discussed.

Dumbledore however, seemed to have made up his mind.

"Tom Riddle cannot remain attached to Harry, under any circumstance."

He stood up slowly, Fawkes taking flight high into the room. "I must go and speak to the Minister for Magic at once."


	6. Chapter Six

"What do you expect me to do Albus?" Fudge paced back and forth. "Do you want Potter to be removed from the school? Have the auror's lock him up?"

He gestured wildly to the group of witches and wizards scattered around his office, their dæmons shimmering beside them.

"Does Potter know?" a gruff voice interrupted, a giant ginger tabby cat sat purring on his lap.

"I believe so, Rufus." Dumbledore nodded. "However, as I stated before. I do not think Lord Voldemort has any recollection of his previous existence."

Fudge lost his composure. "The boy knows? I can hardly allow him to remain unchecked now. If the prophet got hold of this information-"

His large bull dog growled, pacing along side the minister.

"The prophet can be used to our advantage," Dumbledore answered. He looked odd amongst the group, as he was the only one without his dæmon by his side.

"You intend for them to find out?" Fudge seethed. "To tell everyone that You Know Who is back? Are you mad?"

"If we are to separate Harry from his supposed dæmon, you will need public support," Dumbledore explained.

"Now hold just one minute, Dumbledore," Fudge roared. "You never mentioned about removing Potter's dæmon from him?"

"No," another voice interrupted. "I will not authorise the use of a dementor on a child, not under any circumstance"

Dumbledore nodded his head, holding up his hands. "I would not expect you to, Kingsley, I am suggesting another proposal."

"What then, Dumbledore?" Kingsley asked sharply, his lynx sitting proudly by his side. "While Potter and the Dark Lord are connected there is little we can do. Particularly if you say that Tom Riddle recalls nothing. They are only children."

"You are being naive, Kingsley," Rufus interrupted, as his tabby hissed. "We cannot assume Riddle does not remember. We should place guards around the boy at the very least."

"For Potter's protection?" Kingsley questioned, as his Lynx eyed up the tabby.

Rufus snorted.

"A dæmon would never hurt their own, Potter is safe from the Dark Lord. I am thinking about protecting the students. Riddle is deadly."

Fudge was shaking his head in a panic.

"The boy cannot remain at the school, guards would be ineffective. Think about what the press would say?"

"Locking up Riddle would mean containing Potter," Kingsley stated sharply, much to the silence of his colleagues. "That is not acceptable."

Dumbledore coughed lightly, drawing the attention away from their discussion.

"As I was saying, I have another proposal, one which will solve all of your concerns."

Fudge looked irritated. "What? This better be good Dumbledore."

The headmaster only smiled, blue eyes twinkling as he spoke.

"The silver guillotine."

Fudges face froze in an instant, and his bull dog stopped beside him. No one dared move.

Kingsley leaned back, surveying Dumbledore carefully. Rufus too had fallen quiet, eyes hardening as his tabby pressed closer to his chest.

"That instrument is hidden deep in the Department of Mysteries," Kingsley commented quietly "No one should know about it."

Dumbledore just smiled, batting the questioning look aside.

"I'm sorry, sir?" a young auror with shocking bright pink hair asked. "The silver guillotine?"

Their jack rabbit was the only dæmon not to have frozen in fear.

"Who are you?" Fudge's bull dog growled.

"Tonks, sir," the witch saluted.

"She's new to my team," Rufus nodded, before sighing heavily.

"The instrument comprises of two separate metal cages," he explained. "The witch or wizard is placed in one, their dæmon in the other." His large tabby dæmon shifted disturbed. Rufus reached out a hand to stroke her gently.

"An enchanted blade rests in-between the two cages, it is sharp and can cut through the connection between person and dæmon."

"What-?" Tonks breathed horrified, her jack rabbit stilling like the other animals.

"It severs the dæmon. They will no longer belong to the witch or wizard," Dumbledore said. "They will be two separate entities, and in this particular case Tom Riddle will no longer be attached to Harry."

"It is a disgusting contraption," Kingsley stated with a frosty look towards Dumbledore. "And one that should never be used on anyone, let alone a child."

"It should have been destroyed long ago," another auror spoke up. "Use a dementor if you want to destroy a dæmon, at least then the witch or wizard are unlikely to survive. It is far kinder than that contraption."

"Wait?" Tonks gasped, looking around the group in horror. "You mean, the person will live even with their dæmon separated."

Kingsley nodded, a shadow to his eyes.

"No matter how close the victim would be to their dæmon, they would never be the same again. They would be able to touch, but they would never be able to feel that comfort, the completeness that once belonged to them."

"You are perhaps forgetting that this is Lord Voldemort we are talking about?" Dumbledore stated. Fudge flinched as his bull dog barked.

"It is also Harry Potter," another auror snapped, standing up in their fury. The eagle beside them screeched. "He deserves his dæmon, regardless of who they are."

"I don't believe the auror's have jurisdiction over the silver guillotine," Dumbledore commented, his blue eyes shifted to look at the minister.

Fudge looked torn, as Kingsley looked furious. As Fawkes wasn't present his Lynx hissed towards Dumbledore.

"Be quiet all of you," Rufus commanded angrily to his team. "Dumbledore is correct, it is not the time nor the place for your personal opinions."

The group shifted frustrated at the order.

"It would be political suicide," Fudge stressed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"You would be destroying Lord Voldemort once and for all," Dumbledore offered. The aurors fell silent.

"I would be destroying Harry Potter," he replied loudly, waving his hands wildly. "Do you really think the public are going to favour me if I tear the boy away from his dæmon?"

"Why Cornelius, I never once suggested we remove Harry's dæmon."

Everyone in the room stilled.

Kingsley crossed his arms gruffly, not looking impressed.

"Explain."

"I am merely suggesting that we remove the parasite that is Tom Riddle," Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling. "Harry's true dæmon will of course be left unharmed."

There was complete silence.

"Why didn't you mention this before?" Fudge seethed.

"I care about Harry's well-being above all else," Dumbledore said. "I trust you will consider this when you are making your decision about the use of the guillotine."

Kingsley's expression darkened, but he didn't comment.

"You're assuming that Potter has another dæmon," Rufus stated. "However, you have no proof."

Fudge took several deep calming breaths.

"You've put me in a horrible position, Dumbledore," Fudge stated. "Just one wrong decision and this is going to be disastrous."

He paused briefly as he chewed his lip.

"However, if you have one shred of evidence that Potter has a real dæmon. Then I will go along, but only then. Do you understand?"

Dumbledore just smiled. "I understand perfectly, Cornelius."

* * *

Harry was elated. Tom had only been practicing magic for a few days, but in that time he had already proved capable of performing quite complicated magic.

"Try this one," Harry said as he opened a charms book he'd selected.

Tom glanced at it briefly, before turning the wand towards a book, high up on the top shelf in the library.

"Accio book," Tom stated, moving the wand fluidly. The book responded instantly and he caught it with ease.

"You're going to have to practice to keep up," Tom teased as he ruffled Harry's hair.

Harry ducked away, glaring at him.

"You can't be that far ahead of me," he said. "I mean, how hard can it be?"

As if to destroy Harry's point, Tom handed over the wand.

"Go on then, turn a matchstick into a needle."

Harry swiped it back, glaring. "That's not fair, transfiguration is harder then charms."

"Better get practicing then," Tom grinned.

It wasn't much later when Harry sat down at the table, feeling disgruntled. He'd managed to turn the match silver, but it was still far off what it was supposed to be.

"You just need to adjust your wand movements," Tom suggested, taking the wand back off him to demonstrate.

Harry watched silently, a thought suddenly striking him.

"We should have our own wands," he suggested. "It seems odd that we keep having to share."

"Perhaps," Tom muttered thoughtfully. "I quite like the one we already have though."

"That's only because it's brothers with Voldemort's," Harry countered bitterly, elbow slumped against the table.

Tom just grinned at him.

"Was I that transparent?"

He moved the wand fluently, the matchstick changing into a perfect needle.

Harry sighed. "Seriously though, we'd be better off with two. The teachers wouldn't know you have one then."

"Well you can hardly use this one right now to be fair," Tom teased, dangling it in front of him. Harry swiped it back, he was going to retort but someone else interrupted them.

"Umm, Tom?"

Harry and Tom both turned around surprised.

Hermione's otter, Ramiron, was sitting on a library table looking at Tom tentatively, which meant Hermione wasn't that far behind.

She appeared from behind a shelf, a number of books clutched in her arms. Harry rolled his eyes, if she was asking Tom it would most likely be homework related.

He was wrong.

"I'm sorry," she seemed to not know what to say, so she blurted it out all at once.

"I looked you up," she rushed as Ramiron shifted around.

Both Harry and Tom froze, heads turning to meet each others.

"You used to be a person," Hermione stated firmly, before either of them could react.

There was no point in denying it as she waited patiently.

Tom relented first, "How do you know that?"

Harry glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby but the library was empty.

"After what the ghosts said," she summed up proudly, gaining confidence and satisfied that they hadn't claimed otherwise. "Everything indicated that they recognised you, so I looked up your name in the school library. You used to be head boy nearly fifty years ago."

"I did?" Tom asked.

Harry tried not to look surprised, considering Tom turned out to be a Dark Lord it was odd to know that he had once been a model student.

"You look exactly like the photographs, come see-" Ramiron rushed.

Harry tried to not panic, as Hermione pulled them towards the trophy room.

It was only a few moments later when Harry found himself staring at an old photograph. It was buried in the back of an old cabinet and certainly looked like Tom all right.

The older Tom was dressed in Slytherin robes amongst a group of other students and their dæmons. Harry immediately spotted Nagini who was positioned next to Tom. She really was beautiful, and looked fiercely intimidating with her glowing eyes. Her body coiled round and Harry genuinely couldn't recall ever seeing a serpent so big.

Hermione was intelligent enough, surely she would make the link between the dæmon and Lord Voldemort.

Tom was completely silent, seemingly engrossed into the photograph.

"You also received an award for special services to the school," Hermione pointed to a plaque at the forefront of the cabinet, it had Tom's name engraved upon it.

"It's amazing," she continued. "You seem to be the only human dæmon to have existed. Well you're not a dæmon, not really anyway, you have your own soul. Although-" she suddenly looked really sad. "Your dæmon is gone now, I'm sorry about that."

Harry could feel his palms sweating, wishing that Hermione would stop talking. Tom only watched her quietly.

"I wonder if other witches or wizards can do it," Hermione pondered.

"Do you always think aloud?" Tom asked.

Hermione blanched at this, her eyes widening as Ramiron retreated. Curling around her own legs as he placed his head low.

"Not always," she replied.

"It's refreshing," Tom answered.

Hermione blushed, her face turning scarlet as Ramiron squeaked again.

Hermione turned back to the photographs, leaning in closer to examine it.

"Nagini," she read. "That was you dæmon's name."

Harry dared not breath, there was nothing he could do as Hermione hesitated.

"Wait-I've heard that name before."

Hermione's eyes shifted upwards to Harry's scar, her confusion transforming as realisation dawned.

Hermione didn't say anything but her face drained of all colour, she took a slow step backwards. Harry had never seen someone look so terrified before.

Tom remained the same, eyes hard, daring her to acknowledge the truth and say it out loud.

"Are you okay Hermione?" he asked softly. Harry could barely breath, this was not what he wanted.

Hermione responded to her instincts, ducking down and scooping Ramiron into her arms as she ran.

Harry swore, darting after her in a blind panic.

He barely got out of the library and down the corridor, when he felt his and Tom's connection strain. He couldn't move any further, not on his own.

Footsteps echoed behind him as his heart pounded, he felt sick.

"Are you ashamed of me, Harry?" Tom's voice was soft, demanding an answer.

"Of course not-" Harry started at once, turning hopelessly to face him.

"Then why do you care if Hermione knows about me?"

Harry clenched his fists together, this was blatantly unfair.

"She might tell someone."

Tom's look only darkened.

"Like the teachers?" he asked. "I'm pretty sure they know already."

"You know that's not what I mean," Harry bit out.

"So, what's the difference?"

Harry fidgeted under Tom's furious gaze. He made to move away in the direction Hermione had disappeared in, but Tom fingers entwined around his wrist.

"Harry?" he pressed, not once looking away.

Harry swallowed awkwardly, he may as well tell Tom the truth.

"She's muggleborn."

Tom's hand tightened slightly.

"So what, you think I'm going to kill her?"

"No," Harry stumbled. "Of course not."

"Voldemort kills muggleborns," Tom's eyes flashed dangerously. "So why wouldn't I?"

"You're not Voldemort, not anymore," was the only response Harry could manage, it was pathetic. He glanced back in the direction Hermione and Ramiron had fled.

This whole conversation was just going wrong. He couldn't think straight, he needed to set things right, make sure Hermione understood.

Tom gave him an exasperated look, before thankfully taking pity on him.

"Hermione is far more intelligent than the majority of the students here," he said. "Regardless of her background, she is capable of magic and has a right to be here."

Caught off guard, Harry blinked.

"That's not what Voldemort would think."

"No," Tom agreed. "I don't care either way for muggleborns. Though I can see why Lord Voldemort, who attended school as a Slytherin would hate them."

Harry didn't follow.

"Why?"

"Salazar Slytherin wanted to purge the school of muggleborns, that's why he left," Tom said. "Slytherin's are pure bloods and fiercely ambitious. To be lenient on muggleborns would be unacceptable."

Harry swallowed awkwardly. He didn't want to admit it, but it was horrible how easily Tom could relate to Voldemort and his actions.

Tom still gripping Harry's wrist, only squeezed it tightly.

"Which brings me back to my original question. Are you ashamed of me?"

"You know I'm not," Harry retorted. He gestured his hand in the direction that Hermione and Ramiron had fled. "Hermione won't understand, you know that-"

"If you ask me, the mudblood isn't worth your time," a voice interrupted.

Harry spun around in an instant, wrist pulling out of Tom's now slack grip. He came across a sight he really didn't want to see.

Draco Malfoy was leaning against a stone pillar, his arms crossed, with Adara on his shoulder. He had a smirk lingering on his face.

Tom shifted so Harry was standing behind him, but he didn't say a word.

"How much did you hear?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady and indifferent, despite feeling anything but.

Draco's smirk broadened into a grin, as his eyes deliberately focused on Tom.

"Enough,"

Harry's day was just going from bad to worse. Hermione had been bad enough, let alone Draco Malfoy. Draco however, didn't seem phased, his reaction was completely the opposite.

He moved off the pillar, Adara jumping down his shoulder and onto the floor as he approached them.

"I expected that you may have an idea," he nodded his head low towards Tom, it was a deliberate sign of respect. "But what I didn't expect was for Potter to know as well."

He glanced towards Harry, looking far too smug.

"You promised you'd come down to our common room," Draco continued, not giving them time to speak as he nodded to Tom with a grin. "You'd be more then welcome there."

Harry wanted to refuse, he clenched his fists together annoyed.

"We should go and find Hermione," Harry stated, almost begging Tom to turn down the offer.

Tom didn't say anything, which was far worse as Draco waited patiently.

"You owe me," Tom instructed to Harry at last, leaving no room for negotiation. He held out his hand expectantly.

Harry resigned himself to his fate, as he handed Tom over their wand. He sure hoped Tom knew what he was doing.


	7. Chapter Seven

Thankfully the Slytherin common room was quiet. Only a handful of students were scattered around, immersed in their homework or with discussions with their friends.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, he wouldn't have wanted to stir up a scene. From what Nearly Headless Nick had told them, students weren't supposed to visit other common rooms. Not to mention, Snape was head of Slytherin house and Harry didn't want to give him an excuse to hate him more then he already did.

Tom didn't seem to notice, he moved as confidently as ever, positioning himself among the small group of first year Slytherin's. Harry sat down beside him, trying desperately not to fidget under their stares.

Crabbe and his hyena Camelai were eyeing them up, and Harry suspected they were looking for a fight. Goyle's gorilla grunted in their direction.

Pansy, Theodore and Blaise, who Harry had yet to speak to, were looking at Draco as if he had gone mad.

Pansy's dæmon, a stunning black swan, ruffled his wings.

"You're a Slytherin?" he asked Tom.

Draco who was now sitting calmly in an arm chair, rose an eyebrow. Adara ran down his arm to stand before the swan.

"I said he was, Patamon, are you doubting us?" she snapped.

Pansy just wrinkled her nose at this, and turned to Harry.

"You're still a Gryffindor though," she said stiffly. Harry remained silent, along with the other Slytherin's.

At this comment, Tom tilted his head to the side and flashed Pansy one of his charming smiles.

"You can't blame Harry for being misguided."

Patamon looked affronted, whereas Pansy blinked stunned.

"I do hope you can forgive his intrusion," Tom added, ruffling Harry's hair.

Harry battered it away, scowling. Pansy however blushed.

"Not at all," she muttered.

"So why did you pick Gryffindor?" Blaise asked Harry coolly. His cheetah dæmon bared its teeth with a low growl.

"The sorting hat deemed it necessary to decide for us," Tom said lightly.

"Well, that's typically how it works," Draco added with a sharp look towards Blaise.

"Any reason why your dæmon is acting like a wild animal?" Tom mocked.

"Her name is Lalini" Blaise snapped back. Lalini dipped her head, but her sharp eyes remained level.

The Slytherin's shifted, clearly offended, however Draco leaned forwards.

"Tom is correct, Blaise," he said. "We are all friends here."

Lalini shifted as Blaise shot Draco an equally cold look, instead he turned to Harry.

"Don't you speak at all?" Blaise asked.

Harry leaned back, crossing his arms. He shot Tom a look.

"With permission," Harry lied.

Blaise spluttered indignantly, clearly not liking the way dæmon and humans roles had swapped. Tom's mouth curled into a smile.

Theodore, who had been watching silently, sat back, an amused look crossing his face as he glanced towards Draco and nodded.

Draco smirked back.

Blaise looked between them confused, as Lalini's piercing eyes shot between Adara and Theodore's dæmon, a sparrowhawk who was watching Tom carefully,

Pansy, bored of the boys jabs, interrupted.

"Ignore Blaise," she said, waving a hand dismissively as her swan bristled. "I find your presence more then enjoyable."

She glanced her eyes sideways to Harry before back to Tom.

"Regardless of how direct you are with ourselves."

"That's because he grew up with Muggles," Blaise sniffed. "Potter doesn't know the pureblood ways, his dæmon is out of line."

Draco opened his mouth in an attempt to do damage control. Tom however spoke first.

"Enlighten me," He said coolly. Harry too wanted to know what they'd done wrong this time.

Blaise just sneered at him, moving a hand to stroke his cheetah's fur. He addressed Harry instead.

"Daemons are a natural extension of the soul," Blaise explained. "Every moment is shared, with dæmons being more expressive."

Harry had noticed this, although Tom was probably an exception.

"Daemons interact with each other, they reflect the humans interactions and act appropriately," Blaise flicked Tom a cold look. "To address a human is rare. It isn't necessary, and reflects poorly. It's like your emotions are on show."

"You're so old fashioned Blaise," Pansy sniffed.

"Draco's always spoken to Tom," Harry pointed out. Adara too was vocal and in turn, Ron's dæmon always spoke to Harry.

"Tom is hardly a normal dæmon, and Pansy is right," Theodore nodded. "Hardly anyone behaves that way any more."

As a response Tom just smiled, he opened his mouth to interject before an angry voice interrupted the group.

"What is Potter doing here?"

The first year Slytherin's spun around, and a number of silent eyes shifted in their direction.

Harry found himself staring at a large burly fifth year, a shiny prefect badge sitting proudly on their chest.

"I invited him," Draco responded at once, chin jutting out.

"And he's not welcome," Blaise added.

"He's a Gryffindor, he shouldn't be here."

The prefects wild cat hissed, fur sticking up on edge as her back arched. Adara immediately went to counter this, her teeth bared despite her small size in comparison.

The other first years sat their quietly, their dæmons shifting into what looked like submissive forms.

Draco went for his wand.

The prefect raised an eyebrow at this, anger turning into cold amusement. He ignored Draco completely as he turned to Harry.

"Get out."

He didn't even bother to draw his own wand.

Harry didn't move, instead he looked anxiously towards a perfectly calm Tom, this was his problem.

At the lack of movement the prefect lost patience. Irritated he moved forwards, making to grab Harry by the arm, seemingly planning to physically remove him from the common room. Big mistake.

Tom stood suddenly, jerking the wand sharply towards the prefect.

There was an ear splitting crunch as his leg snapped. There was a scream and the wild cat retreated, running into the prefects arms in desperation. Tom levelled the wand carefully.

"Think about touching Harry again and I will kill you," he said softly.

There was a deafening silence and even Draco looked fearful, Adara cowered, making herself look as small as possible.

Harry wanted to leave, although used to Dudley's hospitalised childhood, he couldn't help but tug onto Tom's sleeve, fingers curling in tightly.

"You'll pay for that Potter," another Slytherin interjected furiously. He was probably one of the prefects friends, and they drew their own wand, directing it straight towards Tom.

Several people acted at once. Draco grabbed Harry and pulled him back, and two older Slytherin's and their dæmons appeared from nowhere, positioning themselves in front of Tom.

"Know you place, Rupert," a seventh year said coolly, his meerkat dæmon had it's teeth bared.

"Potter's dæmon-" The boy, Rupert, brandished his wand.

"Has done nothing of consequence," the seventh year responded without hesitation. "The same cannot be said for yourself or Drummond."

He then turned towards Tom, and bowed his head.

"My apologies," the boy stated, "It will not happen again."

Harry's heart was hammering, but Tom looked in his element, weighing his wand carefully now, as if deliberating what to do. Harry shot him a desperate look, urging him not to continue.

Thankfully Tom relented, stepping out from behind his Slytherin guards, he looked almost bored.

"Come here, Harry," Tom said softly, holding out his hand.

Harry took it, at once feeling Tom's comforting touch rush through him.

The common room remained deadly silent as Tom pulled Harry through it.

It wasn't until they reached the entrance did Tom turn back.

"Deal with him."

One small command was all it took, but the prefect on the floor tensed, not understanding why his house mates were turning against him as they leveled their wands.

Tom pulled Harry out of the common room.

* * *

"The older Slytherin's think you remember being Voldemort," Harry started as soon as they were out of earshot.

Tom smirked, but his eyes were hard.

"It wouldn't be any fun if I corrected them."

Harry didn't answer this, his heart was hammering painfully, thoughts racing.

"How do they know who you are?" he managed to ask.

Tom shot Harry a look as they continued to walk.

"Hermione is a muggleborn and she managed to work it out. It would be shameless, if a house of mostly purebloods had no indication."

"You mean their parents are Death Eaters?"

"I believe so, I suspect that is how Draco knew at the very least. The comment he made back in Diagon alley certainly implies his father is sympathetic to the dark," Tom said.

"Still I don't think you should have broken his leg," Harry said. "It was careless. If the teachers find out-"

"I'm not worried about the teachers," Tom said.

Harry stopped walking as he clenched his fists.

"Tom, this is serious. They hate Voldemort. In honestly, I'm surprised we haven't been locked up already."

Tom stopped walking as well, tilting his head to the side as he crossed his arms.

"Would you rather I had let them throw you out the common room?" he asked. "Let them hurt you?"

"It's not about hurting me," Harry protested. "This is more then that. You're a Dark Wizard, and you're given them plenty of reasons to do something about it. The more people know, the less safe it is for you."

Tom stepped close to him, a sad smile on his face.

"Who do you think our enemy is?"

Harry's eyebrows knotted together in confusion. At his lack of response Tom continued.

"Everyone is our enemy."

Harry bristled.

"You seemed to be getting on just fine with the Slytherin's. I imagine you'll be hunting muggles soon."

Tom snapped, calm composure breaking.

"I did it for you," he hissed. "Are you deliberately being stupid, or are you really this ignorant?"

Harry felt his stomach churn, as he tried to hold Tom's cold gaze.

"What then?" Harry said.

"If the death eaters know about me, they will act," Tom said, his eyes never once left Harry's. "Which means, they will want to get hold of you."

"The death eaters won't hurt me though," Harry said. "I'm with you, that's the point. They won't hurt me while we're together. My life is your life."

"Without commands, I can not predict their actions," Tom explained coolly. "And from the little I've read about them, they are ruthless."

Harry swallowed thickly, heart racing.

"What do you think would happen?" Tom asked quietly. "If the death eaters thought I didn't remember being Voldemort, or that I wasn't capable of being their Lord?"

Harry almost didn't want to answer.

"They would try to take you, or try and hurt me."

Tom nodded sharply.

"They would act how they see best, and do whatever necessary to give Voldemort back his memories, I doubt they will listen to a child. That's why we have to be careful around the Slytherin's. They are built on connections, and old ways. One wrong move and the death eaters will respond."

"I don't understand," Harry felt stupid for even asking. "Don't you want to remember?"

Tom sighed, but his eyes were hard and determined.

He moved forwards, pulling Harry close. "

I won't let any one hurt you, not again. Muggles, Death Eaters, or anyone else. Do you understand?"

"It's not your job to protect me," Harry bit out, before relenting with a shrug and a weak smile. "You're a Dark Lord anyway, you're meant to be the bad guy."

Tom's grip tightened, and if Harry hadn't known better he would have thought he was afraid.

"Please Harry, we're on different sides of a war. Everyone is our enemy. The dark will protect me, but will only save you if I command it. I need the death eaters to listen to me."

Instead of feeling comfort, Harry felt all strength drain out of him to flood with horror.

All this time Tom was trying to protect him from his side, his followers, because they were perceived to be more dangerous.

Harry swallowed thickly.

"What about the light?"

Tom's jaw clenched, but he nodded.

"They are equally as dangerous, I know that, which is why I also need the death eaters on my side. Any movement, and they may be our only way out."

Harry felt his throat run dry. "You've already thought about this, why didn't you say anything? What about Hermione, if she knows?"

"Hermione can tell the teachers no additional information," Tom said. "However, this gives us an advantage."

Harry blinked.

"It does?"

"Depending on her response, we may get a clearer indication of their actions. If nothing happens, then we can safety assume that they want the information to remain quiet, and they are only observing us for now."

"Why would they be observing us?" Harry asked. "Surely it makes more sense to act straight away?"

Tom nodded. "I'm actually surprised that no one has even spoken to us about it, which means they are waiting for something."

"What?"

Tom was completely silent, before he just shook his head and flashed a smile at Harry, starling him.

"I'm probably just being paranoid. Come on," he grabbed Harry's hand to pull him forwards. "Dinner should be in the Great Hall by now."

Harry let Tom pull him down the corridor, trying not to let his thoughts run away with him. He didn't like any of this, but Tom's hand squeezing in his was reassurance he could hold onto.

* * *

As the next few days went past, Harry was pleasantly surprised when everything remained normal. Sure, Hermione was avoiding them, but she had been annoying in the first place.

"I don't know what you've done mate," Ron commented as Hermione and Ramiron darted out of the greenhouse at the end of their lesson. "But you'll have to give me some pointers, she was an absolute nightmare in charms this morning."

Harry shrugged as they walked back up to the castle. The Slytherin's too had been oddly quiet, and Harry hadn't spoken to Draco since the incident in the Slytherin common room.

It was bad enough, worrying that everyone would find out about Tom, but Harry was getting the impression that something else was going on.

Along with Hermione's silence the teachers had also stopped harassing Tom as much. Professor McGonagall hadn't even complained when Tom performed magic in class. And even Snape had let Tom help Harry with his potion. Tom hadn't spoken to him about the Death Eaters again, and Harry hated to admit it, but he was reluctant to ask.

So it was a relief when flying classes finally started. Harry had been looking forward to riding a broomstick from the start, and he needed something to take his mind off things.

The only downside was that it was with the Slytherin's.

Harry tried his best to ignore the stares from his classmates as they lined up on the grass. Lalini, Blaise's cheetah was watching Tom again from a distance.

"Flying is an essential skill for any witch or wizard," Madam Hooch started, pulling Harry's attention away.

Harry couldn't help but gape at her dæmon. It was a huge hawk with piercing eyes and looked like it was eyeing up the smaller, rodent dæmons with much more then mild interest.

"Some of you will be lucky and have dæmon's that can fly. Those of you who have smaller dæmons, will be able to keep them safety in the respective baskets."

She pointed to the majority of broomsticks lying in the ground. They had baskets attached to the underside and looked very precarious.

"Those of you with larger dæmons, do not fly above that line," Madam Hooch gestured towards a thin red line marked high on the side of a several poles in a wide square. "Also if your dæmon stays in the middle of this marked spot, you will be able to fly safety within the bounds marked."

Harry was relieved to see that Tom should be able to fit on the broomstick with him.

Hermione's hand shot high into the air.

"How do witches or wizards fly long distances if they have a large dæmon?"

"They normally use other means of transport, however they can train themselves to be apart from each other," Madam Hooch instructed. "This is unusual though, and typically is only common for professional Quidditch players to learn."

"The twins have it easy," Ron muttered beside him. "Because they share dæmons, as long as one of them stays near the ground they don't have to bother."

"What about Sephronia?" Harry asked, he wasn't sure if she would fit in the basket.

"I manage in the basket," Sephronia said "Anything to fly."

Hermione was looking even more apprehensive then she had done at breakfast. Ramiron was eyeing up the basket attached to the broom with clear uncertainty.

Neville's dæmon was flicking through different forms so rapidly that Harry could barely keep track.

Cyrilla was an eagle, a sparrow, a pigeon, before finally settling on a swallow, however she only continued to flit around Neville's head as he looked terrified.

Madam Hooch then instructed them each to pick a broom and get in position.

Tom eyed the broom cautiously.

Harry glanced at him warily.

"Just get on the broom," Harry whispered under his breath.

Tom glared at him.

"I am not getting on that thing, it's a death trap."

"Well how the hell am I supposed to fly?" Harry asked. "If you haven't noticed this is a flying lesson."

"Just don't go far from me," Tom said. "I'm staying on the ground."

Harry scowled at this.

"Come on. I won't even complain if you want to go to the library later."

"Not good enough, Harry."

Harry glared at him, he'd been looking forward to flying all week, but he didn't have anything to bargain with.

The students lined themselves up with the brooms.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front. "And say, Up!"

"Up!" everyone shouted.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once. Other broomsticks however, seemed happy enough to remain on the ground, leaving both human and dæmon frustrated.

"Please," Harry muttered under his breath, as Madam Hooch went around correcting everyone's handling.

Tom ignored his request.

"Just be careful okay."

Harry huffed, he wasn't going to hurt himself.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," shouted Madam Hooch, drawing their attention back. "Remember those of you with baskets, watch the back of your broomstick, your dæmon won't appreciate being knocked around."

Some dæmon's were looking terrified, curled up in their baskets and looking as if they'd rather be anywhere else.

Harry couldn't help but feel utterly disappointed as Tom remained perfectly still.

"On my whistle then – three – two-" The hawk instructed with a screech.

Neville kicked off hurriedly, immediately rising high into the sky.

"Come back, boy," Madam Hooch yelled, but he was moving straight up, higher and higher. Cyrilla darted around him, her small wings beating furiously.

Madam Hooch's Hawk took flight, his large wings soaring.

Neville was panicking, as he failed to bring the broom under control. The class watched horrified as nothing could be done.

He slipped.

Cyrilla changed in an instant, her small form transforming into a huge sea eagle. Wingspan several metres wide, as she dived underneath him. Neville's body was enough to throw her off balance as they tumbled.

The class watched terrified, some of the girls screamed.

However Cyrilla had done enough, Neville's fall had been slowed and they hid the ground with a relatively gentle thud.

Madam Hooch rushed over, her hawk swooping over head.

"Come on, Hospital Wing now," she tutted and turned to the class, as she pulled a very shaky Neville along. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing. You leave those brooms where they are."

Cyrilla was changing shape rapid again, distraught that Neville was in pain.

As soon as they were out of ear shot, Draco burst into laughter.

"Did you see his face?"

The other Slytherin's joined in.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Parvati snapped.

Harry clenched his fists. Tom placed a warning hand on his shoulder. He didn't owe Tom any favours any more, and even the risk of Death Eaters felt like a distant threat.

"Look, Longbottom's dropped something," Draco started ignoring the angry Gryffindor's. He darted forwards to seize what looked like a large round glass ball lying in the grass.

He threw it up in the air precariously as Adara jumped around excitedly.

"That's a remembrall," Hermione stated curiously as he peered closer. "It's meant to turn red if you've forgotten something."

She looked up and accidentally caught Harry's eye. She clamped her mouth shut.

"Why don't I leave it up a tree?" Draco mocked.

Harry frowned at this and ignored Tom's warning squeeze.

"Give it here, Draco," Harry said as he held out his hand.

Silence fell, both from the laughing Slytherin's and the mumblings of the disgruntled Gryffindor's. Draco's mouth fell open in shock.

"Sorry?" he stated, staring at Harry as if he'd gone mad.

"The remembrall," Harry stated, "Give it here."

Draco blinked, his eyes sliding over to Tom. Harry felt sick at this, it was almost as if the Slytherin was asking permission, Tom however, didn't react.

Adara seemed to deem that everything was acceptable as she nodded towards Draco. He recovered immediately, another thinner smile also creeping onto his face.

"Okay, Harry," he smirked, his eyes alight with competition. "How about we make this interesting?"

Harry blinked, totally confused.

"You better win," Tom stated an edge to his voice.

"You catch it, you keep it," Draco said, much to the rising tension of the group as he moved onto his broomstick in one fluent movement.

Harry knew that one word from Tom and Draco would stop, annoyed he gritted his teeth together.

"Fine," he turned to Tom. "Get on then."

Harry swung his leg over his own broomstick. Tom's smile vanished in a second, as his gaze turned hard.

He couldn't say no, not in front of the Slytherin's.

Harry grinned, as Tom moved forwards, stepping over the broomstick and locking his hands around Harry's waist. Not surprisingly Draco looked unnerved. He probably hadn't thought he'd be playing against Voldemort.

Instead of jumping into the basket, Adara ran up Draco's arm as he knelt down, positioning herself so she was on his shoulder. Draco pushed off expertly.

He pulled up, so he was hovering just below the height where the dæmon line marked.

"Go on," Ron encouraged, glaring up at Draco in anger. Some of the other Gryffindor's also looked eager to see Harry take on Draco. Hermione however was looking completely torn, she was biting her lip as if forcing herself not to protest.

She met Harry's eyes, and promptly looked away again.

Harry pushed off into the air after Draco, feeling his hair swoop back as all his anxieties left him. He pulled himself up gently and the broom responded beautifully, mirroring his desires perfectly as he levelled himself out across from Draco.

The blond looked surprised momentarily before a grin spread across his lips.

"Not bad."

Before Draco turned his broom skywards. Adara dug in her claws, not even blinking as they darted higher into the air.

Harry jerked his own broomstick up at once, tearing upwards in a rush of excitement, he felt Tom's grip around his waist tighten.

He had barely moved higher when something went terribly wrong.

Harry's eyes widened as he felt coldness descend, the grip on the broomstick becoming instantly slack. His body became lifeless. He had no time to contemplate the emptiness, the absence on his soul. Harry had never felt so alone, despite Tom's arms still gripping tightly around his waist.

He had no control over his body, as it slipped sideways. The whole weight of the broom twisted awkwardly, and Tom's tightening grip wasn't enough.

Harry fell.

He couldn't feel the wind rushing past his face or the screams from his classmates, it was only nothingness as he slammed down hard into the solid ground.

The next few seconds flashed by in blurry pain. Harry had never remembered feeling so disconnected and his body remained still, lost and afraid.

Tom was by his side in an instant, throwing the broomstick aside, his own face ashen and pale, his hands shaking as his fingers crept over Harry. He didn't look like he could speak as Harry blinked rapidly and his vision swam.

The coldness was receding now, the pain of his injuries flooding his senses as he clenched his teeth and hissed in agony.

"Stay still," Tom whispered as he clung to Harry.

Someone else was calling out through the panic as Harry felt sickness overcome him.

"Stay awake," Tom insisted, shaking Harry's numb body with his cool fingers. They were soothing to Harry's skin but he couldn't find his voice to tell him.

"Out of my way," a sharp voice yelled.

Tom stepped back, his eyes ablaze with terror. Harry wanted to raise his arm, to pull Tom back close to him, but he couldn't move. Everything just hurt as his vision shifted back and forth from black.

A shimmering light moved in his view. It was McGonagall's dæmon, but Harry couldn't concentrate. He was vaguely aware of her moving her wand. Harry felt the pain fade as his breathing remained sharp and uneven.

The cold grass moved away as Harry's body floated into the air. He hissed in pain as his body screamed in protest. Tom was back by his side in an instant, and Harry sought him out, feeling so weak and desperate for the comfort of their connection.

It wasn't enough and he blacked out.

* * *

Harry shivered, he was so so cold. It felt like he had no strength to warm himself. He turned feverishly, his head was burning.

"Stay still."

Harry froze at the voice, blinking back his tiredness.

"Tom," Harry tried to move and grab hold of Tom.

A warm hand enclosed tightly around his wrist, shaking some of the emptiness as strength flooded into him.

Harry pulled his eyes open to seek out Tom. Tom was pale and his whole composure rigid.

Harry tried to sit up, but the movement caused his body to burn in pain.

"I told you to stay still," Tom's said harshly, his other hand moving to hold Harry down.

Harry's head pounded as he lay flat on his back. Tom didn't seem satisfied that Harry wasn't going to attempt to move again, so he remained holding onto him.

Harry wasn't going to complain at the close proximately, Tom's touch was a lifeline.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

Tom's eyes shot to him, but he didn't answer.

Harry's head was racing. He could remember flying and then only a sudden emptiness. The fact that his body had collided with the ground felt insignificant in comparison.

Tom's eyes were scanning over what must have been his broken body, as if searching for an answer.

"It felt like...like something had gone," Harry whispered. It was such a stupid explanation, and didn't reflect at all what had happened.

Tom's eyes narrowed just a shade.

"What does it feel like now?" Tom asked softly.

Harry turned his head away.

"Okay, I just feel a bit shaky."

Tom's hands tightened instinctively.

"What?" Harry pressed. Tom's reactions were starting to make his heart beat quicken.

"You broke a number of bones," Tom said. "Most of your major injuries however, have already been healed."

Harry turned his head back to Tom, who had leaned back slightly, content that Harry wasn't about to sit up again in a hurry.

"Are you okay?"

Tom paused before nodding.

"I'm fine."

"You're not," Harry started at once, throat thick. He could tell when Tom was lying. "Tom? Did it feel different for you to?"

"You flew above the dæmon line" Tom said, his own voice oddly distant.

Harry frowned.

"That shouldn't have mattered-" Harry began at once. "You were with me."

He really didn't like the way Tom was looking at him.

"Harry, you can't ignore the facts," his voice was quiet. "You know what happened."

When Harry didn't reply, Tom sighed.

"Your dæmon is real."

Harry shook his head numbly.

"You're my dæmon."

Tom gave him a scolding look.

"You know what I mean. Your dæmon can't fly, and you flew away from it, you went beyond your boundaries. That's why you fell."

Harry automatically opened his mouth to protest, but at that precise moment the hospital wing door creaked open.

"Good evening, Mr Potter."

It was Dumbledore and he was smiling.


	8. Chapter Eight

Harry watched as Dumbledore walked through the Hospital Wing. His dæmon wasn't anywhere in sight.

Tom's fingers tightened instinctively in Harry's bedsheets.

"Mr Potter," Dumbledore began, blue eyes sparkling brightly from behind his half moon glasses. "I'm glad that you are relatively unhurt after your fall, you had many of your classmates worried."

Harry struggled to find his voice.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Dumbledore only smiled at him and sat down on the chair beside Harry's bed.

"Not to worry. I remember my first time on a broomstick. Fawkes was most excited when I could fly with him."

"Yes, sir," Harry answered as he glanced across at Tom.

Dumbledore too turned briefly in Tom's direction, before settling back on Harry.

"Forgive me, Harry," he began "I would have preferred to have had this conversation when you had recovered, but alas there is no time like the present."

Harry didn't say anything.

Dumbledore sighed heavily.

"Can you please explain to me why you fell off your broom?"

"No, he can't," Tom interrupted before Harry could even open his mouth.

"I'm clumsy, Professor," Harry added with a shrug. "I've never flown before-"

It was if Dumbledore's eyes pierced right through him. The headmaster was silent for a moment.

"I have numerous students who said that you fell from your broom after you both flew above the dæmon line?" Dumbledore prompted.

"Must be a coincidence," Harry lied, his own panic increasing.

Something wasn't right and Tom's sheer terror pulsing through him wasn't helping.

Harry tried not to fidget as he held the headmaster's gaze.

"Perhaps," Dumbledore commented. "Harry, how long have you known that Lord Voldemort is your dæmon?"

Harry hadn't expected Dumbledore to come out and say it, not after weeks of nothing. Tom was frozen, eyes cold with clear resentment.

Instead of answering directly, Harry wet his lips.

"I don't see how that is relevant, sir," he said.

"He wants to know if I remember," Tom said coldly. "He wants to know if I've been converting you to the dark."

Dumbledore shook his head. It was almost like he was disappointed in Harry. He turned towards Tom.

"I see you are still as sharp as ever, Tom," Dumbledore said. "However, I am here only for Harry's well-being. I trust you will understand that?"

Tom's expression darkened.

"Somehow, I believe our definitions of Harry's well-being are going to be different," Tom said coldly.

"Naturally," Dumbledore replied with an odd smile, he turned back to Harry. "Forgive my forwardness, Harry. I can assume you are very protective of Lord Voldemort?"

Harry didn't like this.

"He's Tom," he bit back stubbornly.

Dumbledore continued regardless.

"As Voldemort has no doubt worked out, I am currently interested in discussing your real dæmon."

Tom shifted in an instant, gripping Harry's wrist as he lent over him.

"Get out," Tom hissed.

Dumbledore didn't even flinch.

Harry tried to sit up, but everything hurt.

"I don't have a hidden dæmon-" he started, as Tom's earlier conversation spun in his head.

Dumbledore however held up his hand to interrupt.

"Harry, I know when my students lie to me."

"I'm not lying-"

Dumbledore fixed him with a very stern gaze before he sighed heavily, "Your dæmon is an essential part of you, Harry. Their absence can only be a result of Lord Voldemort's deliberate actions, I trust you realise this?"

"Get out," Tom hissed, louder this time.

Harry just blinked, totally thrown by Dumbledore's comment.

"If my dæmon was real, Tom would never do that."

"Lord Voldemort killed your parents, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly.

Harry struggled to sit up at this, temper flaring. Tom's hands at once darted to hold him down.

"I know that," Harry snapped. "He's Tom. And I don't care if he used to be Lord Voldemort or not."

Dumbledore straightened himself, eyes moving over to Tom who was looking as angry as Harry felt. He was silent for a moment.

"Lord Voldemort is an evil wizard, he killed and tortured many innocent people."

Harry's stomach jolted.

"I know that."

Dumbledore didn't answer him, instead he stood slowly and tucked the chair aside. He looked troubled.

"Harry, I expect you to accompany me to the ministry of magic when you have recovered. You are not allowed to protest."

And with that he turned around and left.

* * *

Sure enough, the first morning Harry was out of the Hospital Wing, an owl arrived at breakfast carrying a very official letter. Hedwig, who had only brought Harry a few letters from Hagrid so far and had been eating Harry's toast, snapped her beak at it angrily.

"It's from the ministry," Tom said as Harry pulled the roll of parchment off its leg. Hedwig, flapped her wings indignantly, screeching at the ministry owl as it departed. Harry unrolled the parchment and scanned it cautiously.

"Mr Potter, we request your presence at the Ministry of Magic on the 1st November," Harry read aloud. "For assessment of your dæmon."

He looked up at Tom.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Tom took the letter and read over it quickly.

"They are probably going to decide what to do with me," he answered after awhile.

"They can't hurt you though?" Harry asked tentatively.

Tom sighed and handed Harry the letter back.

"I don't know, Harry. Until we learn more about magic we don't know what they're capable of."

Harry stomach churned uncomfortably at this, trying to get his bearings.

"Okay then, library?"

Tom only nodded.

* * *

The next few weeks flew by and before Harry knew it, it was nearing the end of October. Harry was finally grasping the basics in his lessons and was now capable of some decent spells. Tom of course had already advanced well beyond the curriculum. They often spent hours in the library where Tom could practice every time Madam Pince wasn't breathing down their necks.

Harry had never known a place like Hogwarts and it was beginning to feel more like home then the Dursely's ever did. If it wasn't for their approaching meeting at the Ministry of Magic, Harry probably would have been completely happy. Even the time he spent down in the Slytherin common room wasn't too bad, although Harry would never admit it to Tom.

On Hallowe'en morning, they woke to the smell of baking pumpkin wafting through the corridors. It made Harry's stomach churn.

The Professor's had been watching Tom closely. Every word Harry spoke, and every interaction with Tom seemed to be of particular interest to them.

Currently, it was Professor Flitwick who was watching them from a distance in his charms class.

"Flick your wand more," Tom commented as Harry failed again to make the feather hover.

Harry flicked it again and nothing happened. Ron, at the next table, wasn't having much more luck.

"Wingardium Leviosa," he shouted as Sephronia ran around in circles.

"You're saying it wrong," Harry heard Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make the gar nice and long."

Sephronia snarled towards Ramiron, who was sitting on Hermione's desk.

"You do it then," Ron retorted angrily.

Hermione then proceeded to hold out her wand and perform the spell perfectly. Ramiron looked smug which caused Sephronia to growl at him.

Professor Flitwick was delighted, his dormouse dæmon bobbing up and down on his head as he praised Hermione.

Ron was in a very bad temper by the end of the class.

"At least Hermione speaks to you," Harry commented bitterly.

"I don't know why you care," Ron muttered. "She's an insufferable know-it-all. It's no wonder she doesn't have any friends."

Someone knocked into Ron, pushing him into Harry. It was Hermione, Ramiron held tightly in her arms.

Harry caught a glimpse of her face – and was startled to see that she was in tears.

"Looks like she heard you," Tom smirked.

Ron looked uncomfortable at this and Sephronia's tail dipped.

"Well she must have noticed no one likes her," Ron defended himself awkwardly. Hermione didn't turn up for their next class and wasn't seen all afternoon.

On their way down to the Great Hall for the Hallowe'en feast, Harry, Tom, Ron and Sephronia overheard Parvati Patil telling her friend Lavender that Hermione and Ramiron had locked themselves in the girls' toilets and wanted to be left alone.

Ron looked anxious about this, but Hermione soon left his thoughts as they entered the Great Hall. Sephronia had perked up too, she wagged her tail, eyeing up the hundreds of live bats which flew overhead.

Despite all the decorations, Harry couldn't bring himself to be excited. Him and Tom were going to the ministry in the morning, and he didn't know what was going to happen.

Tom was also silent, eyes scanning over the teachers table with a frown on his face.

Harry was just pushing around his dinner miserably when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table and gasped, "Troll – in the dungeons – thought you ought to know."

He then sank to the floor in a dead faint. There was uproar.

It took several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of Dumbledore's wand to bring silence.

Tom grabbed Harry's arm at once, pulling him into the crowds of students as they moved back to their dormitories.

It wasn't until they were half way up the stairs did Harry freeze, a horrible thought coming to him.

"Hermione, she doesn't know about the troll," he began.

Ron's face paled, and Sephronia barked.

"Oh, all right," he snapped. "But Percy better not see us."

They moved to duck down but Tom caught Harry's arm tightly.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Ron and Sephronia halted, startled.

"We need to find Hermione," Harry said as he attempted to pull Tom out of the crowd.

Tom yanked him back with a severe look.

"Trolls are dangerous."

"Trolls are stupid too," Ron added which didn't help in the slightest.

"We can't leave her not knowing," Harry argued, tugging on Tom's sleeve as he attempted to move away.

"We'll find her and go to the dormitory straight away," Harry added.

"I said no," Tom said coolly. "I won't let you put yourself at risk."

Harry sighed annoyed. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted from Tom.

"Fine, I'll owe you one," Harry said as he squeased Tom's hand.

They held each others gaze for a moment before Tom finally relented. He would never miss the opportunity for a favour.

"Okay, but seriously if you get hurt-"

The four of them ducked down, joining the Hufflepuff's going the other way. They easily dodged Percy and Bronwyn, who was yapping at the every first year who went past.

It took only seconds to slip down a deserted corridor and hurry off towards the girls' bathroom.

"Can you smell that?" Sephronia asked after a short while.

Harry paused, sniffing the air. He couldn't smell anything.

"The troll is that way" she instructed, her dog nose more sensitive then everyone else's. "It smells fowl"

"That's in the direction of the girls bathroom," Tom said quietly. Harry felt his stomach drop.

Before he had time to comment, someone screamed.

"Hermione!"

Ron and Sephronia broke into a run. Harry grabbed Tom's arm, surprised when he followed. They sprinted round the corner and into the bathroom. The troll really did smell bad and Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust.

Hermione was crouched in the corner. Ramiron standing in front of her, his otter form small against the huge Troll which towered over him, club in hand. It was twelve feet tall, its skin dull, granite grey with a small bald head.

Tom snatched Harry's wand out of his hand.

"Accio Ramiron," he shouted.

Ramiron jerked, zooming into Tom's arms, as the club slammed down exactly where he would have been.

Hermione gasped, disorientated that her dæmon was suddenly in Tom's arms. The troll grunted before raising the club again.

"Distract it," Harry yelled at Ron, darting away from Tom to the sinks which ran along side the wall.

Hermione was confused, her eyes searching out her dæmon in panic.

"Rami," she yelled.

The troll had readjusted its focus, grunting at Hermione.

Ramiron twisted out of Tom's arms, landing perfectly on the floor. Tom ducked down, hands pressing onto the small otter to hold him still.

"Stay still," Tom hissed.

"No," the otter hissed, fur sticking up wildly. "I need to help her-"

"You'll only get yourself killed," Tom snapped.

Ramiron sunk his teeth sharply into Tom's hand. Harry stumbled, shocked as the pain reverberated into him.

"Ron," Harry yelled desperately.

"Winggardium Leviosa," Ron cried, swishing his wand. The club twitched, but it was only enough to stop it swinging down on Hermione's head.

Sephronia started barking loudly. The troll didn't like this, twisting away from her to find the source of the annoying noise.

Harry edged closer to Hermione but he didn't get very far.

The troll locked its beady eyes straight on him, it raised its club.

Tom stood suddenly, letting go of the struggling Ramiron. He slashed the wand forward instinctively. There was a large yelp as blood spurted out everywhere, splatting across Harry's robes and face.

Tom had severed the trolls arm. The club still attached to the lifeless hand which fell to the floor with a heavy thud, inches from Harry's feet.

The troll roared, small eyes flashing in anger and pain. It raised its other hand, convinced that Harry had been the one who had wounded it.

Tom moved again, expertly slicing the wand to cause a huge gash across the trolls stomach. The troll staggered. It was losing too much blood, its huge arteries pumping the life out of it.

It howled loudly. Harry ducked, dodging the still attached limb as the troll flailed around in distraught confusion.

"Move," Harry yelled towards Hermione.

Startled, Hermione pulled herself to her feet, barely dodging the lumbering troll as it moved around the small bathroom.

Harry jumped forwards, grabbing her hand and yanking her close. Quickly they rushed behind Tom and Ron as the troll came to a halt, swaying on the spot in the blood soaked bathroom. It fell to the floor with a huge thud, shaking the floor violently.

Hermione fell down on her knees, sobbing, scooping Ramiron into her arms.

"Are you okay?" she rushed, cradling her dæmon to her chest.

Tom had lowered the wand too and was silently checking over Harry for any damage.

"Is it dead?" Sephronia whispered, nudging forwards to sniff the body.

"I think so," Ramiron answered quietly from Hermione's arm.

Harry moved towards it and gave it a kick with his foot.

Tom had definitely killed it.

There were rushed footsteps, and then Professor Quirrell appeared. His turban was half askew and it looked like he'd been running.

He took one look at the dead troll before his eyes fixed directly on Tom who was still holding the wand.

"What do you think you're doing?" Quirrell hissed furiously, his stutter completely gone. He was absolutely livid.

"You fool, give Potter back his wand." He grabbed Tom's arm and jerked him away from the dead troll.

Harry's scar burned as he hissed in blind pain. He fell to his knees, clutching his forehead.

Harry barely acknowledged Ron grab his shoulders as everything spun.

"Professor," Hermione gasped. "You're not meant to...not meant to touch someone else's dæmon."

Harry could barely concentrate. His vision was blurry as pain seared through him.

Quirrell let go of Tom. It was an immediate release. The paralysing pain dissipated as Harry's body relaxed, but the stinging in his scar remained. Harry sought out Tom at once, he'd never felt so weak before.

"Give Potter back his wand," Quirrell repeated stiffly.

Tom looked completely unhurt, and Harry couldn't place the look on his face. He dropped the wand silently in front of Harry, eyes never once leaving Professor Quirrell.

"Tom-" Harry began reaching forwards as he pulled himself to his feet.

He didn't get a response.

It was just then that Professor McGonagall and Einaris came rushing into the bathroom.

They both froze.

"What an earth happened here?" she demanded, eyes moving over the damaged bathroom before landing on a blood soaked Harry.

"Mr Potter," she began aghast "Are you hurt, what happened?"

Harry opened his mouth but he didn't get a chance to explain.

"P...Potter is unhurt...I...I dealt with the t...troll," Professor Quirrell interrupted.

Ron's month fell open and Hermione had to jerk an elbow into his side to force him to rearrange his face.

"I...I found P...Potter, Wealsey and Granger in here," he stuttered. "The t...troll must have f...followed them in."

There was complete silence.

"You certainly made a messy job of it, Quirinus," a voice commented. Snape had arrived with his dæmon, Laraine. "By the looks of it, you had no time but to amputate it's limbs."

Snape's eyes drifting deliberately over to Harry and Tom and the severed arm lying in the middle of the bathroom.

Harry's stomach churned.

"It was lucky Professor Quirrell was here," McGonagall stated carefully. Einaris had his eyes firmly locked onto Laraine.

"But what an earth were you three doing? You were told to go to your dormitory." McGonagall began sternly.

Laraine moved closer to the troll, carefully inspecting it before bat eyes moved over Harry and Tom.

Harry wished she'd look elsewhere.

"I...I didn't know about the troll," Hermione started at once, drawing eyes towards her. "Ron, Sephronia, Harry and Tom came to find me and Ramiron, to tell me."

"That's when the troll appeared, but Professor Quirrell arrived. He killed it," Ramiron piped up. Harry had never heard her otter say so much, let alone a lie.

Harry's head spun, everyone was protecting Tom.

Tom's face was carefully in place, but his eyes never once left Professor Quirrell's.

McGonagall looked furious as Einaris skirted her heels. "Why an earth didn't you tell a teacher, you could have been killed?"

Harry cleared his throat, trying to push aside the hollow feeling of being ignored.

"We didn't think, Professor."

"That much is obvious," she stated. "Ten points from Gryffindor, for your sheer stupidity. You were lucky Professor Quirrell got to you in time."

Harry ducked his head, trying to look embarrassed. He just wished Tom would look away from Quirrell.

"Go up to your dormitory at once," she instructed. "The feast is being continued up there."

They didn't waste any time, each moving hurriedly away from the wrecked bathroom. Harry had to grab Tom's arm and pull him away from Professor Quirrell.

They didn't speak until they entered the common room.

Numerous eyes turned their way and furious whispers broke out. Harry was still covered in blood after all.

"Why the hell did Quirrell cover for us?" Ron began as soon as they were in a corner. "What happened to his stutter, and what was that spell? We haven't been taught that?" He nodded atTom.

Hermione glanced over at Ron and Sephronia, before looking towards Harry.

"Does he know?"

Harry shook his head sharply.

Sephronia didn't like this at all.

"Know what?" she growled.

"It doesn't matter," Harry said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

Ron looked affronted.

"But-"

"Drop it," Tom said quietly.

Harry opened his mouth, angry that now Tom was responding.

Hermione cut across him sharply.

"We'll wait for you down here," she said loudly, looking pointy towards Ron.

"What-?"

Hermione kicked Ron in the leg and Sephronia whimpered.

"Oh, right," he muttered, catching on.

Harry only nodded stiffly as he followed Tom up the stairs to their dormitory.

* * *

Tom pushed Harry into the shower, hands tugging away his clothes.

"You didn't have to kill it-" Harry began quietly as his shirt was pulled over his head.

Tom's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"You said you wouldn't get hurt," he stated thinly.

Harry shrugged.

"I didn't get hurt."

Tom shoved Harry's head into the running water at that comment. Harry spluttered, coughing as he inhaled some water.

"You nearly got killed," Tom hissed. "What was I supposed to do?"

"We're meant to be going to the Ministry tomorrow. If they knew you killed something-" Harry stressed.

Tom's looked deadly at this comment.

"Lucky they don't know then".

Harry bit back a retort, the sticky blood was starting to wash off his skin now but he had more pressing questions.

"Why did Professor Quirrel cover for us?" Harry asked.

Tom actually looked away at this comment and became distinctly interested in rubbing the blood out of Harry's hair.

"I don't know-"

"Tom," Harry pressed. "Are you not telling me something?"

They always shared everything. Tom just shook his head, eyes still averted.

"No."

"You're lying," Harry said, stomach churning as he pushed Tom away. He ducked down, hair dripping wet as he stared into Tom's eyes. "Tom?"

Tom just shook his head and his hands fell to his side.

"It doesn't matter Harry, you wouldn't understand."

Harry felt himself go hollow in an instant. He stood there, water and blood dripping over him, feeling worse then he already did. It was always him and Tom, what wouldn't he understand.

Before he could even ask, Tom reacted, stepping away from him.

"I'll wait outside for you to finish."

Harry remained standing in the shower, not moving as Tom left. He didn't hear the bathroom door open again.

* * *

After cleaning himself up and still feeling dejected, Harry followed Tom back down to the common room. Ron and Hermione were waiting for them, sitting in the corner with a load of Halloween treats.

It was odd, something seemed to have shifted between the three and it was nice that Hermione and Ramiron were there too.

Trying to push aside his detachment from Tom, Harry decided to shed some light on the matter.

He handed Ron over the letter he'd received a few weeks ago.

"You have to go the Ministry tomorrow?" he gaped.

Harry nodded dully.

Although Ron and Tom had never seen eye to eye, it was encouraging when Ron handed back the letter.

"That's stupid," Ron argued. "Just because Tom is different doesn't mean they have any right to assess him."

Harry tried not to catch Hermione's eye at this.

"Thanks Ron, there's not much we can do though. They think Tom is dangerous."

"Yeah, well after that stunt with the troll I guess they sort of have a point...Oh," Ron trailed off awkwardly. "Is that why Quirrell covered for you?"

"I guess," Harry shrugged.

Although from Tom's reaction earlier, Harry had a funny feeling that more was going on.

"So what does that mean, assess your dæmon?" Ron frowned.

"Oh," Hermione blushed at this bit, Ramiron moving in her arms. "I've actually done a bit of reading about that."

All four of them turned to look at her, stunned.

"It's not the first time students have come to Hogwarts and had dæmons which are considered to be dangerous," she shrugged, obviously trying to sound casual.

Harry blinked, that he hadn't expected. Hermione shifted awkwardly.

"Is there anything you don't read?" Ron scoffed as Sephronia started to eat his left over sandwiches.

Harry however, knew exactly why Hermione had read up about the Ministry procedures.

"What did you find out?" Tom asked slowly.

"Well take Merlin for example," Hermione explained. "His dæmon was a dragon. When he started at Hogwarts, that caused all kinds of havoc."

"Merlin's dæmon was a dragon?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, and she was basically uncontrollable," Hermione offered. "Dragons are temperamental at best, let alone when attached to an hormonal teenage boy. Daemon's still have their animal traits after all."

"Do they? It doesn't say that in Me, Myself and my Dæmon," Harry said.

Hermione shook her head.

"That book explains the basics, but fails to acknowledge the instinctive. Every witch or wizard's dæmons resembles an animal of sorts. That they have attributes of the form they take." she nodded at Tom. "You wouldn't know that though, your dæmon is a human."

"Oh," Harry paused, glancing towards Tom too. "So what happened to Merlin?"

"He was subjected to a number of examinations and hearings. All to demonstrate his control over his dæmon. Of course he did though, Merlin was the most powerful wizard of his age."

"Somehow I don't think the ministry will care if Harry can control me or not," Tom stated.

"I don't get it," Ron interjected. "There is no reason to assume Tom is dangerous, just based on the fact he's human. There has to be more to it then that? What have you done, aside from killing a troll?"

Harry chewed his tongue, now would probably be the best time if any to tell Ron and Sephronia the truth, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I guess it's just because he's different," Ramiron spoke up, once again lying. "Anything from the norm is going to unnerve them."

"He does feel different," Sephronia added. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but she continued.

"What? I'm just stating the truth. You must have felt it too, when he rescued you?" Sephronia asked Ramiron.

Ramiron looked nervous, before he eventually relented.

"I guess he does."

"And I am still here," Tom said coolly causing both dæmons to jump.

Ron and Hermione watched the three of them bewildered.

Tom turned to Hermione.

"Are there other examples, any where the witch or wizard's dæmon was deemed...uncontrollable?" Tom asked.

"Actually..." Hermione looked nervous now, she bit her lip. "Apparently there was a dæmon who killed another student, about fifty years ago."

"They killed a student?" Ron said.

Hermione nodded.

"The report I found was vague, but it seemed to imply that the dæmon was somehow changed artificially after the incident."

Harry's blood ran cold, and his eyes darted to Tom's in fear.

Tom however looked surprisingly calm as he studied Hermione carefully.

"It's not very common," Hermione said "And it's so unnatural, the ministry keeps it hushed up. I had to go through half the library and tons of old Daily Prophets before I found anything."

"What was his dæmon before?" Tom asked. "And how did the ministry change it?"

"I don't know," Hermione said clutching Ramiron close. "But it's barbaric."

She locked eyes with Tom.

"I wouldn't wish that upon anyone."

"Yeah, but the Ministry aren't going to do that," Ron said leaning back, ignorant to Harry's rising fear. "Why would they? It was only a stupid troll."

"I received the letter weeks ago, Ron," Harry said.

"Fine," Ron shrugged. "Is it because Tom can do magic? Again that's not a very good reason".

Harry was silent for awhile.

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Tom actually looked at him for the first time since they'd come downstairs, eyes narrowing. Harry couldn't help but raise his hands at this.

"Oh come on?"

Tom however sat back, crossing his arms.

"It's your loss, Harry," he said, a smirk appearing on his lips.

Harry opened his mouth, angry at this comment but Hermione interrupted.

"Tom does have a point, Harry. I imagine your secret isn't going to stay quiet for long."

"What secret?" Sephronia asked again. Ron was looking suspiciously between the two.

Harry leaned back, glaring at Tom.

"It doesn't matter."

* * *

It was hours later when most students had gone to bed when Harry and Tom finally got a chance to speak to Hermione alone. It seemed she had been waiting for Ron to go to bed as well which hadn't been easy, considering he hadn't stopped pestering Harry and Tom.

"Thank you," she started as soon as they were alone. "Ramiron-" She pulled him closer in her grip. "If you hadn't saved him-"

Tom didn't say anything.

Hermione fidgeted, before finally finding her courage.

"W..When I worked out who Tom really was I told Professior McGonagall," she looked towards Tom before flicking her eyes down again, ringing her hands together. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry."

"What did she say?" Tom asked.

Hermione chewed her lip.

"To avoid provoking you as much as possible, and that they were dealing with it. That's when I started looking up Merlin and other cases. I wanted to know what they were going to do with you"

Harry's stomach churned, feeling sick. Surely the Ministry couldn't change Tom.

"Harry. I want you to know, I'll help you and Tom in whatever way I can. He's your dæmon now. It doesn't matter what he was before," Hermione said.

Harry wished he could take some sort of relief from her.

"I'll try and dig more into that case. The one where they changed the dæmon. I'm sure they can't just go ahead and do it, not without proving Tom is dangerous."

Tom just nodded, moving out his hand to tug Harry upstairs.

"Thanks Hermione," Harry muttered, he was feeling even worse about the Ministry visit now.

* * *

Harry woke feeling like he hadn't slept at all. Hermione's words had been spinning around his head all night. Not to mention, Tom still hadn't explained anything about Professor Quirrell.

Harry rolled over in bed, stuffing his face into his pillow. He felt sick and queasy.

"Don't wanna get up," Harry grumbled into his pillow.

He heard Tom sigh.

"Staying in bed isn't going to change anything."

"It might do," Harry argued, as he blinked bleary eyed at Tom. Tom pulled Harry closer, his expression stern.

"If I say run, promise me we'll run."

Harry swallowed, chest feeling tight.

"To the death eaters you mean?"

Tom nodded, fingers digging into Harry's skin.

"But we don't even know who they are," Harry said.

"No," Tom agreed. "Not yet anyway."

Tom's heart was beating rapidly against his fingers.

"Are you scared?" Harry asked carefully.

Tom's smiled, and Harry could tell it was for his benefit only.

"Terrified, but it still beats the Dursley's."

Harry paused, he wished he could just lie here forever, with Tom by his side and no one threatening to change them in anyway.

"Come on, Dumbledore will be waiting," Tom said as he tugged the covers off.

* * *

Sure enough, Dumbledore was already there when they reached the entrance hall. It was early and Harry had only seen a handful of students as they made their way down to breakfast.

Dumbledore smiled at him as they approached. Fawkes was resting on a suit of armour, large wings spreading out.

"Will this take long?" Tom asked as he eyed up Fawkes warily.

"This is all for Harry's benefit, it will take as long as necessary," Dumbledore said.

Harry didn't like the sound of that. Feeling miserable, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and followed Dumbledore out of the castle and onto the grass.

It wasn't long before they came to the edge of the Hogwarts grounds. Dumbledore stopped and pulled a piece of parchment from his robe pocket.

"Please can you both hold onto this?" he instructed.

Harry and Tom both looked at each other. Neither of them moved.

"It is a portkey," Dumbledore explained. "It will transport us all to the Ministry. However, I would advise not letting go until we have arrived safety."

"Why?" Tom asked carefully, eyeing up the parchment suspiciously.

Dumbledore smiled at him.

"It would be most unpleasant if you or Harry got left behind."

Harry made sure Tom moved to hold the parchment at the same time as him.

It happened in an instant. Something jerked around his stomach and Harry's feet left the ground.

They were spinning, fast and uncomfortably, and a moment later it stopped. Harry fell onto the floor, Tom collapsing on top of him.

Tom glared at Dumbledore as he picked himself up, holding out a hand to help Harry to his feet. Harry turned to look around.

They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. Fireplaces lined the walls where every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge, dæmon in hand or by their side. A large fountain was the centre piece of the huge room as people and their dæmons rushed around it.

Harry stared in amazement, his nerves almost forgotten.

In his wonderment, he didn't realise a tall bearded man approach them.

"Professor," the man nodded to Dumbledore.

Harry stepped back, alarmed. This man's dæmon was a bear and was almost twice the size of him. Harry reached out his hand, but Tom didn't move to take it.

The man noticed but his expression didn't change. He looked down carefully at Harry, before turning to linger on Tom.

"Mr Potter, if you would please hand over your wand?"

Tom shot Harry a wary glance at this, but Harry wasn't sure what else he could do. Numbly he pulled it out of his pocket and handed it over.

"You will get this back when you leave the Ministry," the man instructed briskly.

Harry really wished they had invested in a second wand for Tom.

Satisfied the man nodded.

"If you will follow me, please."

Harry followed, Tom right behind him as they entered a lift. It descended rapidly. Harry didn't like it at all, the man's bear dæmon was huge and took up most of the small space as it growled at Tom.

It came to a halt and the doors rattled open. Harry peered out. This was very different from the previous floor they had been on. No impressive stone work or statues stood anywhere.

Instead only bare walls greeted them. There were no windows and no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor. Instead of walking down the corridor the man lead them down a set of stairs to the left.

Harry was getting agitated as he followed. The walls down here were rough stone with torches in brackets. It felt like he was in the dungeons at Hogwarts.

They came to a stop in front of a grimy dark door with an immense iron lock on it.

"In you go, Harry," Dumbledore instructed.

Harry swallowed hard as he turned the heavy iron door handle and stepped inside. Harry stepped into a blinding light, Tom behind him. He blinked a few times, covering his face with his hands as his eyes adjusted.

Several very tall men stood before him, cloaked in long red robes with intimidating dæmons by their sides.

Behind the men were hundreds of witches, wizards and dæmons. All sitting in stalls, staring down at him and Tom in complete silence. Harry felt his stomach twist in horror as Tom turned to look at him at the same time, both understanding in an instant what was going on.

This was a court room.

A witch sat at the front, her dæmon, a tiny wren, sat on the desk in front of her. She cleared her throat.

"Can you please place the defendant in the secured booth and escort Mr Potter into the adjacent room?" she asked clearly.

Harry barely registered the instructions as his eyes shifted across to a large glass box which stood in the centre of the room. They were going to place Tom in there. Harry panicked, his hands wrapping around Toms arm instinctively, desperate never to let go.

The red robed wizards levelled their wands, some pointed at Harry but the majority focused on Tom.

"Please can you come with me, Mr Potter?" a man asked, stepping forwards.

Harry didn't move.

"Harry."

It was Tom.

"Do as they say," he said tightly.

Tom's whole body was rigid, his voice strained. His eyes were wide and he looked so alone, surrounded by wands as they remained trained on him.

"Tom-" Harry began.

"Do as they say," Tom repeated, eyes pleading with him to listen as his own fingers peeled Harry's own from his clothes.

Harry didn't want to, he wanted to hurt anyone that stopped him being with Tom.

"Please," Tom whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "I'll be okay."

Harry knew it was a lie.

Someone grabbed him around the waist, hauling him away from Tom in an instant.

Harry had no time to react, could do nothing as he was carried into another room. He didn't even get to look back at Tom. As soon as the door shut, Harry heard the lock click.

Harry pulled out of the red robed man's grip, rushing to the door as he yanked at the handle. It didn't move.

He resorted to pounding on the door, he needed to be with Tom. He was his dæmon, what right did they have to separate them by stupid walls. It was just like the Dursley's, being locked inside his cupboard.

"There's a silencing charm on it, they won't hear you," a female spoke as Harry continued to protest.

Harry turned around furious.

"Let me out," he demanded, unable to contain the tremors running through him.

The witch approached cautiously, she was also wearing red robes and had a jack rabbit dæmon beside her.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I know this is going to be traumatic for you-" she started.

"Get away from me," Harry snapped backing away from her. All he wanted was Tom.

"You need to calm down," the man who had brought him in began.

Harry promptly ignored him, turning back to hammer on the door. If only he still had his wand on him.

"Not everyone agrees with this," the woman began hesitantly. "Lucius Malfoy he-"

Totally caught off guard Harry spun around, staring at the witch with wide eyes.

"Malfoy?" He demanded.

The witch nodded quickly.

"He's representing you, and if anyone can influence the Wizengamot it's going to be him. You still have a chance."

Harry's head was spinning, his own emotions pulsing through him. Tom's own terror seemed distant in comparison with his own. Hermione had been right, the Ministry wanted to change Tom.

"I still have a chance?" Harry repeated, unsure if he even wanted to know.

She nodded, hair changing from bright blue to pink in an instant.

"Of course you do. That's why you have a trial in the first place. The whole ministry has been in an uproar. It's surprising they've managed to keep the Prophet quiet for this long."

Her jack rabbit hopped up to him.

"There are people on your side, Harry," he said encouragingly.

Harry's head was spinning.

"You don't think...you don't think Tom should-"

The witch shook her head, her jack rabbit stamping its feet in protest.

"Merlin, no," she breathed. "He's yours. It doesn't matter what he was before, no one should have their dæmon removed under any circumstance. He's only a child."

Harry couldn't breathe, Hermione had been wrong, they didn't want to change his dæmon at all.

"T-they're going to...to remove Tom?"


	9. Chapter Nine

The door to the court room wouldn't budge.

Harry screamed, magic cracking around him as he threw his weight onto the locked door. The witch was saying something but Harry didn't care, nothing mattered anymore. His only coherent thoughts was to get Tom and run.

When the door failed to open, Harry slipped down beside it and drew his knees up to his chest as his body shook with uncontrollable tremors.

He refused to speak to either of the aurors, barely comprehending what had been suggested. How could they possibly understand what Tom was to him, or explain why anyone would want to remove him.

* * *

It was hours later before the door finally unlocked. Harry scrambled up, crestfallen when Tom was no where to be seen. Instead, a man dressed in long red robes stood in the threshold with his giant ginger tabby prowling around his legs.

"Where is Tom?" Harry demanded.

The man didn't answer as he stared down at him shrewdly.

"I am Rufus Scrimgeour, Head of the Auror department. And this is Nala."

His tabby yawned and looked away.

"I want to see Tom," Harry said again.

Scrimgeour's eyes slide across to the female auror who now had bright red hair.

"Has Potter been a problem?" he asked.

She shook her head at once as her jack rabbit jumped around her feet.

"No sir, given the circumstances of course-"

"I want to see Tom," Harry interrupted, louder this time.

Scrimgeour surveyed him carefully.

"I understand that you may be naive to how dangerous this situation is Mr Potter, but if I need to treat you like a child, then I will."

"How am I naïve? I know Tom better then you," Harry retorted.

Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow as his tabby hissed.

"Is that so?"

Harry's gaze slid across to the open door. He was pretty sure he could make a run for it if he took the auror by surprise. Scrimgeour however, was watching him carefully.

"Children are not allowed in the court room unsupervised," Scrimegour said.

It didn't matter anyway as Harry's escape route soon became blocked.

"Scrimgeour," a voice interrupted from the entrance.

There was no mistaking who this was. Lucius Malfoy had the same blonde hair and sneering expression as his son. Behind him, stood a proud peahen, feathers tucked carefully in place.

"Mr Potter has every right to see his dæmon," Malfoy stated coolly as he stepped into the room.

Nala hissed towards Malfoy's peahen.

"Fine," Scrimegour said. "But I'm not letting that thing out its cage under any circumstance."

Harry didn't stay still for long, he took this opportunity to dodge round both Scrimgeour and Malfoy and enter the expanse of a court room. Wizards, witches and dæmons were scattered about, huddled in tight circles as they muttered to each other.

Harry froze, suddenly uncertain as a number of people turned to look at him. Harry felt a hand place on his shoulder as Lucius Malfoy guided him forwards.

"Such a shame," Harry heard an old witch mutter. "For one so young to be so tainted."

"I don't know what the fuss is all about," another sniffed. "They should just remove that thing and be done with it."

Harry tried to ignore them, heart pounding uncomfortably as the grip on his shoulder tightened.

Sure enough Tom was enclosed within the glass prison. It stood in the centre of the room and was surrounded by four aurors, wands drawn and dæmons by their side. Shackles enclosed Tom's wrists.

Harry felt sick at the sight.

"You have two minutes," Malfoy said.

Tom looked up the instant Harry approached.

Harry couldn't help it, he pressed his hands up against the glass.

"Are you okay?" Harry rushed. "What's happened?"

Tom didn't answer the first question, instead his eyes hardened and he nodded towards the Wizengamot.

"They've just been condemning me for Voldemort's crimes," he said quietly.

Harry blanched at this.

"But you told them you don't remember?"

Tom tilted his head to the side and surveyed Harry with a sad smile.

"If you murdered someone Harry and then forgot that you did it. Would you still be responsible for their death?"

Harry's throat run dry.

"I took their families from them. Murdered them, manipulated them like puppets," Tom said, eyes unwavering.

Harry hit the glass, causing a couple of the aurors to look at him warily.

"Stop it, that was Voldemort, not you."

Tom pressed his hand up against his prison, chain clinking.

"I hurt a lot of people, Harry."

Harry had barely noticed Tom's distress through his own, but sure enough his fingers were tight against the glass, his eyes not quite meeting Harry's. Harry had never known him to be so afraid.

"You are not Voldemort," Harry insisted.

"I was, and I'm capable of becoming him again," Tom replied before nodding towards the court. "That's why they are all so afraid. They will do anything to stop me."

It was Tom's deliberate choice of words that made Harry's gut churn. And it took Harry a moment to realise that Tom's terror wasn't because of misplaced remorse.

They held each others gaze for the briefest of seconds.

"You know then?" Harry asked quietly, looking away. "That they want to...separate us?"

Tom nodded, expression hollow. "It was the prosecutions opening statement."

They both fell into silence and Harry tried to ignore his rising trepidation.

"It's pretty hopeless, isn't it?" he said after awhile.

Tom didn't reply straight away.

"They want me dead. By whatever means, the Wizengamot made that pretty clear. And the only way to do that is to rip us apart." Tom said.

"Lucius Malfoy has a lot of influence," Harry began weakly, hoping he would reassure himself as much as Tom.

"So do you," Tom pointed out. "That doesn't mean they'll change their minds."

Harry was afraid to ask as his heart hammered.

"How do they remove a dæmon?"

Tom's expression flickered.

"There's a guillotine."

Harry felt sick, that sounded so barbaric and medieval.

"Theoretical, it should keep you and your real dæmon safe," Tom said quietly.

Harry felt himself go hollow.

"Safe?" he whispered, that was his least concern right now.

Tom pressed his head closer so it was leaning on the glass. He suddenly looked more determined.

"You have to be okay, Harry."

Harry could feel Tom's despair so painfully now, aching in his chest.

"I don't care about being safe," Harry whispered, pressing his own hand to Tom's. "I care about staying with you."

"Don't make this any harder, Harry," Tom pleaded. "I can't do this otherwise."

Tom was always the level headed one with his emotions so perfectly in control. It disturbed Harry, more then he would admit it, to see Tom like this. It took all of Harry's energy and effort to force a weak smile onto his face. He hoped he looked reassuring, but he knew Tom would see right through it.

"In any luck your death eaters will show up," Harry whispered as he glanced nervously at the aurors.

"Careful Harry," Tom chided, but despite this his mouth did tug into a smile.

Harry heard footsteps behind him and he shut his eyes briefly. He wasn't ready to leave Tom yet.

"Potter, the Wizengamot is about to reconvene. If you would?" Malfoy said briskly.

Harry turned away from Tom reluctantly, looking to where Malfoy was gesturing. There was a seat for him just in front of the benches. At least he wasn't returning back to that room.

"Can't I stay with Tom?" Harry asked.

Malfoy's sharp shake of the head told Harry not to disagree. Harry looked back to Tom.

"I won't let them take you," Harry said, a hard edge to his voice. Tom didn't say anything as his hand dropped away from the glass.

Malfoy guided Harry into a chair with a painful twist of his shoulder.

"Only speak if the Wizengamot ask you a direct question, I will answer for you unless otherwise instructed," Malfoy said.

"But-?"

"Do not make me have to repeat myself Potter," Malfoy said curtly. "Or I will have you escorted out of the court room."

Harry bit his lip to stop himself retorting, he nodded weakly.

Tom was leaning on the wall of his prison again. His distraught expression had disappeared only to be replaced with a cold indifference which Harry knew was a charade. He could feel Tom's panic, their hearts pounding in rapid succession.

Sure enough, the members of the Wizengamot were dispersing from their private discussions and returning to their seats with their variety of different dæmons.

Malfoy's peahen stood proudly by his side. Now Harry was closer he could see how beautiful she was.

"What's your name?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

She bristled her feathers.

"Her name is Chandraki, do not address her," Malfoy answered.

Harry slumped back in his chair, remembering how Blaise had said something about pure blood ways and dæmons interacting with other people.

"The Wizengamot is now back in session," a woman spoke loudly.

An awkward hush fell over the room and all eyes stared down at either himself or Tom. Harry squirmed on his seat.

"That's Madam Bones," Malfoy explained quietly. "Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She's chairing this trial."

"Who's the man with the bull dog dæmon?" Harry asked as he glanced along the table.

"The Minister of Magic," Malfoy answered.

"Is that like the muggle prime minister?"

Malfoy didn't reply to this and Chandraki turned her head away from Harry dismissively.

Harry couldn't help but think he'd asked something stupid.

"Having established the events before 31st October 1981, and the actions of the defendant. The Wizengamot shall now proceed with the circumstances regarding Mr Harry James Potter and his dæmon," Madam Bones began. Her dæmon was a Robin and was currently perched on her shoulder.

"If the prosecution would please summarise?" Madam Bones asked.

Dumbledore stood, boots clicking across the floor as he cleared his throat. Fawkes like usual was no where to be seen.

"On the night Lord Voldemort failed to kill Harry Potter-" Shudders ran around the room as Dumbledore spoke. "His soul became separated from his body and latched onto the one living thing present."

Dumbledore nodded towards Harry.

"What we now have is a dæmon, a child, with apparently no recollection of his past who threatens the very foundations we have had to rebuild."

Harry couldn't help but feel simmering resentment at this statement. Dumbledore had no right to claim Tom would rage war again.

"I think we first need a demonstration that Tom's Riddle's characteristics are that of a genuine dæmon," the Minister said.

There were nods around the panel.

"What do you purpose?" Madam Bone asked.

"A simple test should do," an old wizard interrupted. "Dæmons cannot go far from their counterparts and I believe we have yet to see any evidence that Riddle is physically attached to Potter."

Harry's mouth opened ready to argue, but his voice fell short. Instead of two normal eyes, this man had one which was a disturbing electric blue. The normal eye was looking down at Harry but the blue eye was locked straight onto Tom. The man's dæmon wasn't anywhere in sight.

"I object strongly," Madam Bones stated as her robin chirped. "This is a trial, not torture. Are you forgetting these boys are only eleven years old, Alastor?"

"She's right, Moody," another witch added. "It is unfair on Potter."

"Are you forgetting that one of these boys is the Dark Lord," Moody growled.

"You do not need to remind me," Madam Bones stated and her eyes flashed quickly over Tom who was now leaning on the glass, expression cold and body tense.

"How else can we determine if Potter and Riddle are attached then?" Fudge demanded.

"I would suggest talking to the defence?" Dumbledore said.

"We have already established that anything Riddle says will be a lie," Madam Bones said. Harry glanced at Tom, wondering what he had said.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded towards Harry.

"I would suggest speaking to Mr Potter then?"

"He is a boy, who has easily been manipulated," Moody grumbled.

Harry stood automatically to protest, but Malfoy was quick. He gripped Harry's shoulder tightly and forced him back down into his chair.

"Hold your tongue," Malfoy hissed quietly. "You will get your chance to speak."

The panel barely glanced in his direction as Harry wanted to scream in frustration.

Thankfully Madam Bones relented. "Very well. Mr Potter, if you could please stand."

Harry stood, and all eyes moved to him.

"What is the furthest distance you have been from Tom Riddle?" she asked.

"Not far," Harry said. "It hurts otherwise."

"Are we really going to take Potter's word for it?" Moody grumbled. "The boy has been compromised."

Madam Bones nodded.

"It will have to do for now. Mr Potter, you are claiming that Mr Riddle has no prior knowledge of his past life, is this correct?"

"Yes," Harry answered.

"When did you both become aware of Mr Riddle's real identity?" Madam Bones continued briskly.

Harry glanced over at Tom who nodded his head slightly.

"Mr Ollivander," Harry said clearly. "He recognised Tom."

There was silence. This apparently had been a good answer.

"Mr Ollivander prides himself in remembering every wand he ever sold," Malfoy said as Chandraki bristled her feathers.

"A story which Potter has had time to think of," Moody grumbled.

Harry opened his mouth but he was cut across again.

"What were your feelings towards Mr Riddle when you found this out?" Madam Bones pressed. "Were you angry, sad? You'd just found out your dæmon had murdered your parents?"

Harry glared at her.

"Tom didn't kill them."

Mutters ran throughout the Wizengamot like angry bees. Moody even snorted in sick amusement. Madam Bones's gaze sharpened as her robin chirped.

"Who killed your parents then?" she asked.

Harry frowned. That was obvious.

"Voldemort."

Gasps ran around the room and many dæmons jumped in surprise.

"You distinguish Tom Riddle and the Dark Lord as different?" Madam Bones asked.

"Of course I do-" Harry started.

"How are they different?" Madam Bones interrupted.

"Tom would never hurt me-"

"And you believe the Dark Lord would?" Fudge said.

"I don't know, I've don't know him," Harry said as he raised his voice.

"Mr Riddle can use your wand?" the Minister snapped as his bull dog growled.

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Has Mr Riddle ever used your wand to harm another human or dæmon?" Madam Bones asked.

Harry's mind flashed back to the incident in the Slytherin common room.

"No," He said a little too quickly.

"Do you tell many lies Potter?" Moody growled.

"I'm sorry?" Harry said as he forced a frown onto his face.

He wasn't convincing anyone, Tom had always been the better liar.

"What do you think of the Dark Lord, Mr Potter? Do you support him? Are you afraid of him?"

Harry paused, totally bombarded with the onslaught of questions.

Thankfully Malfoy was on hand. He barely raised his voice to catch the panels attention.

"Your questions are hardly relevant. I would remind you that Mr Potter is only a child and this is a full court proceedings. Please limit your questions."

Madam Bones nodded.

"Very well. Only one further question for now."

Moody's electric blue eye waved slightly, flicking to Malfoy for the briefest of seconds before it focused back onto Tom.

The Minister also looked agitated as his dæmon growled.

"If Tom Riddle's memories returned, do you think the Dark Lord would still care for you?" Madam Bones asked.

Colour flooded Harry's cheeks, how was he supposed to answer that. His eyes darted to Tom's who was completely focused on him.

Unfortunately Malfoy remained silent.

"I don't know, I don't know Voldemort," Harry repeated slowly, holding the panel's gaze. "But I do know Tom. And Tom would never stop caring."

The panel didn't seem convinced by this, Moody actually snorted again.

"Moving on," Madam Bones said abruptly as her robin ruffled his feathers. "Professor Dumbledore, I believe you have something you wished to bring to the attention of the Wizengamot?"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood, pacing close to where Tom was imprisoned.

"I believe it is important to establish how dangerous Tom Riddle still is despite his memory loss. I have here a statement from Mrs Petunia Dursley, Lily Potter's sister and Mr Potter's current guardian. If the Wizengamot would allow?"

Madam Bones nodded.

Harry's wanted to disappear. Tom was fixed on Dumbledore, shoulders tense, expression haunted.

Dumbledore unfolded a small piece of parchment and started to read.

"We took Harry in with the intention of raising him like a son," Dumbledore said loudly. Harry's mouth fell open in shock. "However, it soon became apparent that Harry was influenced by something sinister. I always knew Harry would have a dæmon, just like Lily did, but I would have thought twice about bringing Harry into my home if I had known about Tom."

The court was deadly silent. Harry could hear his own heart beating.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"Dudley Dursley," Dumbledore nodded to Harry. "Mr Potter's cousin, has suffered serious injuries due to Mr Riddle's actions."

Tom was glaring at Dumbledore. If looks could kill.

Dumbledore turned back to the parchment.

"We had to use stricter discipline on Harry, to try and keep Tom in order," Dumbledore read.

Harry could feel his face burning with embarrassment.

"As Muggles cannot see dæmons, Tom used his invisibility to his advantage," Dumbledore concluded. "He manipulated Mr Potter's family for his own agenda."

"What was the most serious incident?" Madam Bones asked.

"Dudley Dursley was pushed down the stairs when he was eight years old," Dumbledore said. "He spent a few days in the local hospital with a number of broken bones. He was lucky not to have broken his neck."

Harry could remember it clearly. It was the first time his relatives had acknowledged to Harry that Tom was real and not part of his imagination. Uncle Vernon had been furious.

The court was buzzing and Harry had a horrible feeling they had just had their fate sealed.

"Mr Riddle, can you please explain why you pushed Dudley Dursley down the stairs?" Malfoy asked.

Tom straightened himself up, looking away from Dumbledore.

"I hardly think your question is relevant Lucius, we cannot and will not condone behaviour like that," Dumbledore said.

"I think it is very relevant," Malfoy said. "Children have simple mindsets. Mr Riddle could easily have acted out of retaliation or acting with much more malicious. The intent is always important."

Madam Bones scribbled something down on her parchment before she looked up and nodded curtly. "I agree. Please proceed with your question."

"Mr Riddle?" Malfoy prompted. The court tensed as focus shifted to Tom.

Tom scanned the Wizengamot carefully, deliberating what to say. His eyes locked onto Harry's for only a moment before he looked away.

Harry's chest was uncomfortably tight.

"Harry was locked in the cupboard downstairs," Tom said.

Madam Bones looked startled and her robin flapped its wings.

"I'm sorry, can the defence please clarify?"

Malfoy nodded, eyes scanning over Harry ever so briefly, a curious expression on his face.

"An accident?" he pressed.

Tom lent up against the glass.

"An accident that lasted two days."

There was a cold silence.

"Harry was hungry," Tom continued, voice piercing through the court room. "Uncle Vernon wouldn't let Harry out so I thought he needed persuading."

This time angry mutters seemed to ripple throughout the court room.

"Mr Riddle, I hope you understand the seriousness of your allegations?" Madam Bones stated.

Tom's expression darkened.

"The boys lying," Moody chimed in.

"You're claiming that Mr Potter was abused by his muggle relatives?" Madam Bones pressed.

Tom nodded.

"Mr Potter, please can you stand."

Harry stood again as he tugged at his sleeve. Tom's eye slid to fix straight on him.

"Can you please explain is the information Mr Riddle providing the Wizengamot correct?"

Harry's fists curled tightly.

"Tom only hurt Dudley when I was trapped or hungry," Harry said.

"Mr Potter, please answer the question. Were you deliberately abused by your muggle relatives?"

"Uncle Vernon never hit me or anything," Harry answered honestly.

Tom rolled his eyes.

"Harry," Madam Bones leaned forwards, her face lined with concern. "Do you know what I mean by abuse?"

Harry didn't answer, he only stood deadly still.

Madam Bones however leant back, a disturbed look on her face.

"Why were you locked in a cupboard?"

Harry however continued to remain silent, fists tight.

"It's where we slept," Tom offered. "Until the muggle social services came poking about."

This wasn't strictly true, they had only moved upstairs after Hagrid had visited, but Harry wasn't going to say otherwise.

"The prosecution will withdraw their statement from Mrs Petunia Dursley and an investigation into Mr Potter's living conditions will be reviewed at once," Madam Bones said, nodding over to Scrimgeour. "This action is on the Auror Department for competition within one weeks time."

Harry couldn't believe it, did that mean Tom's actions wouldn't be condemned. The room was in an stunned silence.

However it seemed the panel wasn't finished.

"It is vital we establish if Mr Potter has another dæmon," the Minister said. "To remove Riddle could easily result in Mr Potter's death. We need to establish that Potter will not be left incomplete."

Harry felt his stomach drop. No one had mentioned that. Tom had moved forwards against the glass, Harry could tell he was anxious.

"Mr Potter fell after he flew above the dæmon line?" the Minister continued.

"Correct," Dumbledore answered. "His classmates witnessed the event."

"And Mr Riddle was on the broomstick with Mr Potter?" he clarified.

Harry's heart was hammering. Although all the evidence pointed towards it, he still wasn't convinced. Only Tom felt real to him.

"Mr Potter, have you ever seen your real dæmon?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry shook his head.

"Can you please state your answer Mr Potter," Madam Bones said.

"No," Harry answered. "I don't even know if I have one."

"I think we have already established the existence of your real dæmon, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Mr Potter had never flown a broom before," Malfoy countered. "It could easily have been an accident."

Scrimgeour coughed gently.

"The boy is James Potter's son. It doesn't matter if he'd flown or not before, Potter would be a natural."

Harry's head spun. Everyone seemed pretty clued in and decided on what had happened all those weeks ago.

Harry raised his voice.

"I don't care if I have a real dæmon or not. I don't want them, I choose Tom," Harry said stubbornly, hoping it would count for something.

It happened immediately.

Harry's body ran cold. It was just like before, when he had fallen off his broom.

Harry swayed, emptiness consuming. He had never felt so alone.

"Harry!"

But the voice was distinct as Harry's touch became numb.

Tom was panicking, banging fiercely on his glass prison.

"Let me out," Tom screamed.

"Mr Riddle, calm down at once or I will have an auror sedate you," Madam Bones demanded.

Tom didn't even have time to respond as Harry crumpled to the floor.

There was uproar but Harry could barely tell. His body was completely lifeless.

"Let me out now," Tom hissed as he thumped his hand hard against the glass.

Scrimgeour didn't move.

Dumbledore however was immediately concerned.

"Let Tom out," Dumbledore said.

Still Scrimgeour didn't react.

Thankfully another auror gave the command but Harry was barely aware. Tom was released from his prison and in an instant he was by Harry's side. Wands were trained on Tom but he didn't even care.

A tear ran down Harry's cheek. He didn't understand, why did he feel so empty.

"I can't feel anything, why can't I feel anything?" Harry sobbed.

He reached out, fingers shaking and unable to grip properly into Tom's shirt. But the hollowness was still there, lingering and consuming.

Harry hadn't admitted it after flying, but now he had never been so sure. It was because his dæmon had always been there. Only now with their absence did Harry realise how incomplete he was without them. And then Tom's voice, echoing his own thoughts.

"I can feel it too," Tom whispered as he clung to Harry. "It's dim for me though, not as intense."

"Make it stop," Harry breathed. "Tom, please make it stop."

Tom shook his head hurriedly in a panic.

"I don't know how."

"Tom-" Harry pleaded.

Tom was rigid, completely silent.

"Tom, please make my dæmon come back."


	10. Chapter Ten

"It has to be today," Fudge said as his dæmon paced restlessly up and down beside him. "If the prophet find out-"

"I understand, Minister," Scrimgeour said. "But Potter is in no state to continue-"

"That's the boys own fault, that stunt was completely reckless," Moody grumbled.

"This has only complicated everything," Fudge stressed. "What are we supposed to do now? If the Wizengamot are sympathetic, if they vote to keep them together-"

"That's not going to happen," Moody grunted, blue eye fixed on Tom through the back his head. "They know better."

Scrimgeour however, only raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms as Nala brushed up against his leg.

"I would have thought you'd be relieved, Minister. You have solid proof that Potter should survive the guillotine with a dæmon still attached."

"Well yes," Fudge agreed exasperated. "But I didn't expect Potter's dæmon to just leave. The boy can barely stand. If we approve the guillotine now-"

"It shouldn't kill him," Moody grumbled.

"I can't take that risk," Fudge said, ringing his hands together as his bull dog whimpered. "If Harry Potter turns-"

"If you don't Potter will have to be supervised constantly," Scrimgeour said.

"Supervised?" Moody added with a cold laugh. "Do you really think Potter can return to Hogwarts while he has the Dark Lord apart of him. No, you either lock them both up indefinitely or use the guillotine. They're your only two choices, Minister."

Fudge relented, shoulders sagging.

"We may as well get this over with now."

* * *

A few paces away Tom listened with hallowed eyes. The court was out of session but no one cared that he could hear them. He would be dead soon anyway.

Scrimgeour had offered little mercy as he had hauled Harry away and enclosed Tom back in his glass prison. Tom dug his nails deep into his arm, relishing the pain. Harry was still panicking, he could feel it.

"You should let Harry go."

Tom flicked cold eyes at the voice beside him. The headmaster was standing a few paces away watching Tom carefully. Tom closed his eyes briefly, if only to stop himself from snarling.

"Harry will never forgive you," Tom hissed.

Dumbledore actually had the nerve to look sad as he took an unwelcome step forwards.

"This is all for the greater good."

"The greater good?" Tom repeated, eyes flashing. "What right do you have to define the greater good?"

Pain flickered in Dumbledore's expression. It was brief but Tom noticed. He smiled vindictively.

Dumbledore sighed heavily, removing his glasses to dust them on his robes.

"You would never have been anything good, Tom," he said heavily. "I can only hope that one day Harry will realise this."

Tom's anger simmered.

"Then you are going to be sorely disappointed."

Dumbledore placed his half moon spectacles back onto his ageing face.

"No, Tom. Harry is not like you. He may seek vengeance initially but he will forget you. He will want to forget you," Dumbledore sounded sickeningly confident.

"You're wrong," Tom snapped as he pounded his fist against the glass.

"You took his parents from him," Dumbledore said. "How do you think Harry will feel when he finally comes to terms with this?"

"Don't you dare-" Tom hissed. "I am not responsible."

"And yet you fear Harry will blame you," Dumbledore said.

"You're wrong," Tom shook his head as his heart hammered wildly. "Harry will always pick my side."

"And yet he hasn't," Dumbledore said a sad smile lingering on his face. "The sorting hat placed you both in Gryffindor. I can hardly believe that was your decision?"

Tom wanted to hurt Dumbledore in any way possible.

"Maybe," Tom seethed. "But if you take me from him, you'll soon find out what you'll drive him to become."

Dumbledore's blue eyes didn't twinkle.

"It is a risk I am willing to take."

* * *

Harry stirred deliriously as his head spun. Someone pressed his glasses against his face.

Lucius Malfoy came into a sharp focus, as did his dæmon, Chandraki.

"You can't do this," Harry started, his thoughts incoherent. He needed Tom, why couldn't any of them see this, what right did they have. He tried to sit up but failed.

"Careful Potter," Malfoy said. "You've been given a calming drought. It should relieve some of your immediate discomfort and anxiety."

Harry closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. He could still feel the pull as his dæmon moved further and further away. It had happened instantly but there was still something faint, lingering, hanging on.

"What's happening?" Harry asked as his voice shook.

"The effect is known as Pulling," Malfoy said. "Your dæmon however, seems to be past this stage."

Fortunately the potions had taken effect quickly and Harry was able to sit up slowly, unnerved when his body responded like normal. After flying he had been drained, shaken briefly from being incomplete. Now he just felt empty, like a piece of him was missing.

"Please can you leave, I would like a minute to speak to Mr Potter alone," Malfoy said suddenly.

Harry looked up startled, he hadn't noticed the two auror's behind Malfoy. One of their dæmons, a heron, ruffled their feathers before their wizard relented. The door closed and they were alone.

"You were foolish," Malfoy snapped at once, fury crossing his face.

Taken aback, Harry blinked several times.

"I-what did I do?"

Chandraki ruffled her feathers, showing her disapproval.

"You could have destroyed yourself," Malfoy hissed.

"That was my dæmon," Harry replied numbly.

Malfoy looked murderous at this comment.

"Do you not understand dæmons at all, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth, immediately to answer yes but Malfoy cut him off.

"Your dæmon is your soul. It is not like Tom Riddle who is an entirely different entity completely."

"Tom is my dæmon too-" Harry started.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed at this comment.

"Tom Riddle is nothing of the sort. The Dark Lord takes the form of a dæmon, but he does not belong to you. To separate yourself from your true dæmon is wrong. It should never have happened."

"But Dumbledore-" Harry stammered.

"Dumbledore, like many other witches and wizards are only capable because they have trained themselves. You should know this," Malfoy snapped. "It could have destroyed you. You alone are responsible for jeopardising everything."

"I would never endanger Tom," Harry retorted.

"And yet you did." Malfoy countered coldly.

Harry clenched his fists in fury.

"I didn't-"

"Think about it, Potter. You chose the Dark Lord over your dæmon. You forced your dæmon to leave."

Harry could feel his regret building. He didn't mean what he'd said, he hadn't really wanted to be alone.

Harry chewed his lip.

"Everyone knows then? That I have another dæmon?"

Malfoy nodded curtly.

"It is something you can deny no longer."

Harry sunk back into his pillows. It was his fault. His dæmon had left because he had chosen Tom. He might have been able to accept the pain if the lingering despair wasn't so intense. Harry braced himself for the worst.

"If they do remove Tom, will it feel like this?" he asked slowly.

"No, it will be worse."

Harry couldn't imagine any feeling worse then this. Even Chandraki looked disturbed as her sharp peahen eyes fixed onto Harry.

"There is one fundamental difference," Malfoy said. "You are still connected to your dæmon despite the distance. If the guillotine is used to remove Tom Riddle you will lose your bond and it will be impossible to get back."

Harry fell silent as his stomach churned. It was only the calming potions which held him together.

There was a sharp rap of knuckles on the door. The auror's had returned.

"Is Mr Potter well enough to continue?" the one with the heron dæmon asked.

"Yes," Harry lied before Malfoy could say anything. Harry couldn't leave Tom in there alone. He staggered up using Malfoy's arm to support himself.

Chandraki didn't like this at all, sharp eyes betraying Malfoy's disapproval.

"Do you think it'll change anything?" Harry asked quietly as he moved back towards the court. "Will it change their minds, the fact that my dæmon left? They can't take Tom from me when I'm like this?"

Lucius Malfoy didn't reply, instead his grip tightened on Harry's arm, pulling him forwards. Everyone was waiting but Harry only had eyes for Tom.

Tom looked relieved to see him as his shoulders sagged. He offered Harry a weak smile. Harry tried to smile back, but the weight of despair made it difficult. Malfoy guided him back into his chair.

"Harry, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked at once, his voice laced with concern.

"Mr Potter is managing," Malfoy answered as he held Harry's shoulder to steady him. "Considering his current condition."

"Of course," Dumbledore said as he dipped his head. "We shall proceed then?"

"I don't see how we can continue," Madam Bones said. "Mr Potter has been through a very traumatic experience."

Most of the dæmons in the court fidgeted at this.

"We are only putting everyone at risk if we postpone this trial," Moody said.

"We have already established Riddle's violent nature," Fudge agreed. "It would be in our best interests to be done with this situation at once."

"I disagree," Malfoy countered without hesitation. "Tom Riddle's actions have only been defensive whenever Mr Potter has been threatened or come to any harm. Of course, the muggle abuse Mr Potter has suffered would have heightened this. A dæmon is always more expressive. Could you honestly say your dæmons would not have acted the same?"

"There is a difference between fighting between dæmons and a dæmon cursing a wizard." Fudge said as he gestured down at Tom.

Malfoy offered the Minister a brief smile as he stepped around Chandraki.

"Only because our dæmons do not have this choice. I hardly think it fair to criticise Mr Riddle because he can achieve what another dæmon cannot."

An awkward silence wrung out.

"I think we have heard enough, Minister?" Scrimgeour prompted.

Fudge chewed his lip and he glanced briefly at his dæmon for guidance. Clearing his throat, he nodded.

"I don't need to hear anything else. The Wizengamot should have enough information to base their decision."

Madam Bones raised an eyebrow, clearly debating whether to challenge this or not.

"Let's just get this over with," Moody added.

Madam Bones' robin puffed out it's feathers, letting out a shrill chirp.

"Is the defence happy to proceed?"

Chandraki held her head high and didn't move an inch as Malfoy addressed the court.

"The defence will make no further statements on this matter. I will only stress how much this procedure could now destroy Mr Potter's very existence. And it is only due to our own fear of the past."

Harry looked up stunned. Surely they hadn't done enough, was it all over.

"Can the prosecution please make their closing statement," Madam Bones asked.

Dumbledore stood as his robes flowed out behind him. He turned towards Harry and offered a brief smile. Harry was too drained even to glare back.

"Now we have definite proof that Mr Potter has a real dæmon we know her temporary absence will make this safer," Dumbledore continued clearly. "Tom Riddle can be removed without consequence."

Harry blinked at the word 'her'. Of course, everyone else's dæmon were the opposite sex to them, why would he be any different. The whole concept just felt so alien to him.

"It would be better for everyone involved, including Mr Potter, if Mr Riddle was removed now. We will not have the fear of living through the pain and suffering we once did."

That was blatantly unfair. Harry looked towards Tom wondering if he would protest. Tom was deadly silent and his face expressionless but Harry could feel his fury and fear pulsing through him. Madam Bones nodded sharply and raised her voice to the court.

"Very well. The Wizengamot shall now take a few moments to deliberate."

A buzz ran around the room at once. Dumbledore nodded his head curtly to the Minister. Harry couldn't stand the whispers. He wanted to move towards Tom but he didn't feel like his legs would support him.

It happened all too soon. Madam Bones cleared her throat.

"All in favour of removing Tom Riddle from Harry Potter using the silver guillotine?"

First there was nothing and Harry felt a brief dash of hope. Then hands raised in the air, dozens of them, Harry couldn't count them all. He felt his stomach twist painfully.

"And all against?" she continued briskly.

A few hands shot into the air, including Madam Bone's, but there weren't nearly enough. She looked around and said the words which crushed Harry completely.

"Very well, the Wizengamot approve the authorisation of the silver guillotine to remove Tom Riddle from Harry Potter."

The words washed over Harry. This couldn't be real.

The court began to mutter its approval. Some dæmon's screeched while others barked and howled.

"Riddle will then be taken to Azkaban where he will be destroyed immediately," Madam Bones said. "It is also advised that Mr Potter will need to undergo rehabilitation and counselling until he has been deemed to be recovered."

"Can't we appeal?" Harry asked as he turned to Malfoy in desperation.

"No," Malfoy stated as he held Harry's shoulder tightly. His fingers dug in painfully but Harry barely noticed.

Malfoy looked up towards the panel.

"The defence accepts the Wizengamot's verdict."

Harry wanted to scream, to protest, but he couldn't bring himself to move as his body failed to coordinate itself though his numbness. Maybe they had got it wrong, perhaps Lucius Malfoy wasn't a death eater. He didn't seem to care that his Lord was about to be destroyed.

Harry and Tom were going to be brutally ripped from each other. All colour had drained out Tom's face.

Harry stumbled up, desperate to be close, to do something. He didn't get very far as his legs gave way.

An auror caught him around the waist.

Everything else was a complete blur. Harry didn't feel latched on to reality as the absence of his dæmon was too suffocating. His own responses were slow and disjointed as he remained empty. He needed Tom now more then ever. How could they take him from him.

Witches, wizards and dæmons were moving around Harry as Tom was forced out of his prison. His arms were chained behind his back and he was surrounded by several large threatening dæmons.

Harry couldn't breath as his vision swan in and out of rapid focus.

* * *

Harry had no relocation of how he ended up in the stone room, he couldn't remember if he'd black out, nor could he place if Tom was by his side. He blinked, disorientated. Everything was happening too fast.

Before Harry stood the dreaded contraption. It comprised of two metal cages separated only by a sharp blade.

Harry didn't want to go anywhere near the device. It was tall, imposing and screamed unnatural.

A hand pushed him forwards and Harry automatically dug his heels in. He twisted automatically in what he hoped was Tom's direction but he was blocked by a huge bear dæmon.

It was hopeless, Harry was still weak and he had no way to defend himself. He kicked out at the auror behind him but it had no effect as he was placed inside one of the metal cages.

The door locked shut.

Harry spun around frantically, distraught.

"Let me out," Harry hissed, kicking the wire mesh with his feet. It was solid.

It was even worse then being separated in their cupboard. It was tight and suffocating and with no Dudley to threaten and escape from.

Harry couldn't think straight. He rattled the cage again.

Everyone was standing back in the shadows, their faces barely lit from the flickering torch light. A man stepped forwards, wand in hand as he pointed it towards the blade.

Harry couldn't take it.

"Please," he whispered.

No one answered him.

And then the silver blade was rising, catching in the dim light.

"Harry!"

Harry closed his eyes shut tight as his heart hammered wildly.

"Harry, look at me," Tom snapped though the deafening silently.

Harry didn't want to acknowledge what was about to happen. He couldn't bring himself to look at Tom. The truth was too horrendous. He wished he was back in his cupboard. Tom and him locked in together. No one else but them.

He would give anything to be in Tom's arms just one last time. Harry hoped Tom understood how he felt, that he never wanted to let him go, ever.

Harry would rather die.

"Harry," Tom tried again as his own voice shook.

It took all of Harry's resolve to open his eyes and look across at Tom.

Harry's heart broke. Tom looked afraid and so alone as he pressed himself up against the other cage to try and be as physically close to Harry as possibly.

Tom didn't say a word, but his eyes were pleading.

Harry's couldn't find his voice to speak as he clutched at the cage.

Cornelius Fudge was watching intently. His dæmon was skirting around his ankles. In fact, most of the dæmons gathered looked unnerved, clinging close to their humans as they waited for the atrocious act to be done.

Dumbledore walked up to where Harry was imprisoned.

"I'm so sorry Harry. I hope that one day you will understand."

Harry's green eyes glared in fury. He bit his tongue if only to stop himself cursing. He would never forgive Dumbledore, but right now Tom was is priority, and if they were truly to be separated then Harry would do everything to hang on, connection or not.

Dumbledore stepped back and cleared his throat.

"Minister," he pressed.

Cornelius Fudge chewed his lip. Harry wished that Fudge would change his mind and override the Wizengamot's decision. However it wasn't to be. The minister nodded once giving the command.

The man operating the guillotine responded as he flicked his wand to hold the disturbing blade in place. His bird dæmon was perched on his shoulder and they cooed gently.

This wizard would tear away Harry's completeness, the part of soul that was never his but had been absorbed into his own. Harry waited, breath held. There was nothing he could do.

And then there was a flash of green.

Startled, Harry tore his eyes off Tom's, just in time to see the bird dæmon disappear into nothingness. The wizard controlling the guillotine collapsed to the floor.

The blade started to fall.

Harry scrambled back terrified as if distance could somehow save them.

There was another flash of green and the blade shattered. Shards splintering in every direction as people started to yell.

Harry barely registered what had happened but somehow the guillotine was broken and he was still connected to Tom. Harry had no time for relief. He tore his gaze away.

Dozens of people in black robes had descended. White masks covered their faces and there wasn't a single dæmon in sight. Curses shot through the air, perfectly aimed. Catching the slower dæmons and causing their witches and wizards to collapse into crumpled heaps on the floor.

At once the aurors responded, launching in to counter. All of their dæmons retreated expertly to form a protective barrier around the Minister.

Dumbledore's own curses tore through the air as Harry and Tom remained trapped in the broken guillotine.

Harry turned back to Tom in complete shock. Tom looked deadly pale but he was smiling.

He caught Harry's gaze and mouthed the words.

"Death Eaters".

Witches and wizards were fighting brutally in front of them. The aurors fell as either they or their dæmons were caught off guard. Death Eaters too crumpled, stunned in fierce rays of light, but they never once relented.

There was a flash, a bang and the contraption holding Harry and Tom broke apart. Harry's cage spun, twisting him into the air, before it crumpled down hard on the stone floor.

Scratched and bruised, Harry scrambled wildly as tried to free himself. He could barely get his bearings, he was unable to see Tom through the curses, or hear him through the noise.

The door clicked open. Harry desperately lunged forwards, but he need not have bothered. Strong hands gripped his waist, hauling him out of his prison.

Harry needed to find Tom, but he had barely tried to struggle forwards when his muscles collapsed. Harry had no strength or energy as the masked man pulled him close, shielding him from the oncoming curses.

Harry felt sick, he was hardly consciousness as his head spun. He thought at first the potion had worn off, that Harry was feeling the true effects from his dæmons absence. And then Harry realised that one of the robed men was holding Tom.

Instant outrage at this indignant act flooded his head. Tom was his alone. This was so much worse then the unbearable pain Quirrell had caused after the troll. This was different, the touch of another human on his dæmon. Harry could understand why it was forbidden and yet his limbs still couldn't respond.

Curses continued to flash as the aurors and death eaters continued to clash.

But Harry barely registered anything else as his stomach suddenly jolted. It felt like a portkey, snatching him away from the fight in a blink.

Harry collapsed hard onto a wooden floor. He coughed violently as dust flooded his lungs. Harry scrambled around desperately seeking Tom. He could feel their connection, Harry knew Tom was close by.

Tom was behind him but he was still held in the masked man's icy grip.

If felt like an age before the man let go.

As soon as Tom was released, Harry felt some of his strength return. He lunged forwards to grab hold of Tom, instantly feeling the familiar rush of warmth and comfort.

Tom's arms wrapped around him tightly, pulling Harry close. Harry's whole body was shaking but he needed to be connected. Never again would he let Tom be kept from him.

They both remained on the floor, unable to pull themselves apart long enough to stand and get their bearings.

"You will wait here," the death eater instructed before he disappeared with a loud crack.

They were alone.

Tom pushed Harry back slightly as his hands skirted over him to check that he was still safe. His eyes were hard, unreadable.

"Tom-" Harry started.

"Shh," Tom hissed as he clamped a hand tight over Harry's mouth.

Startled, Harry barely managed to suppress his cough. He moved his head back from Tom to look around. They were in a decrepit building, it was dark and full of cobwebs.

Tom pointed towards the floorboards. Harry strained his ears. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his own beating heart. And then he heard it. A noise echoing beneath them.

Tom stood slowly as he pulled Harry up behind him. Tom's gaze was locked across at the only entrance. A broken door hanging in an old frame.

The sound shifted and Harry nearly swore. Whoever was beneath them was coming up the stairs.

And then Harry's forehead exploded in pain.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Harry staggered as he pressed his hand hard into his forehead.

Tom twisted away from the door.

"Harry-?"

Harry blinked through the dizziness as his scar burned fiercely. Something warm and wet tricked between his fingers. Tom's stared in horror at the blood as he gripped Harry's shoulders.

The footsteps echoed up the wooden stairs.

"Tom, it hurts-"

"I know, I feel it too. Just hang on-"

They had no time to prepare. The footsteps came to a sudden halt as the broken door creaked open in its frame. Tom yanked Harry behind him, their hearts pounding in rapid succession.

A cloaked figure stood on the threshold. A hood was drawn over their head, hiding everything but a cruel smile.

"Reveal yourself," Tom demanded.

The man dipped his head, grin widening.

"Of course, my Lord."

Harry couldn't breathe, watching as hands reached up slowly. The hood fell.

"You?" Harry gasped.

"Me," Quirrell laughed and it wasn't his usual quivering tremble, either, but cold and sharp, just like after the troll.

"Y-you sent the Death Eaters?"

The amusement disappeared in an instant. Quirrell took his first step towards them. Harry's scar burst with another round of pain and he stumbled into the back of Tom.

"There was no other option," Quirrell said. "You nearly lost everything."

His gaze shifted over to rest on Tom, but he didn't get to say anything further. To Harry's horror, a voice spoke, and it seemed to come from Quirrell himself.

"Let me speak to them...face to face..."

A chill ran down the back of Harry's neck, did Quirrell have a dæmon after all? Quirrell turned away sharply, hands wrung together.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell protested.

Tom was deadly still, fixated to the spot as conflicting emotions rushed to Harry.

The voice spoke again.

"I have strength enough...for this..."

Petrified they watched as Quirrell unraveled his turban, before he turned slowly on the spot.

Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, grotesque, distorted and stretched. Fearsome red eyes locked straight onto Harry. An unfamiliar presence pierced through him. It was completely intrusive, like this thing was seeing straight into his soul, into Tom.

"You have something that belongs to me," the face hissed.

Harry shook his head, distraught, every instinct screaming at him to run. Tom however, was absolutely captivated, and Harry felt an unwelcome stab of longing run through him.

He could feel the connection, deep and terrifying mixed in with Tom's own presence. Harry didn't know whether to feel relieved or horrified. This was so wrong, Tom was his, and his alone, not part of this thing.

Harry turned back to the face and took a steadying breath, closing his eyes ever so briefly. He knew it was true, despite what he'd been told.

"You're Voldemort," he whispered.

Voldemort's piercing gaze intensified and Tom's grip loosened from holding Harry.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort hissed, distorted face more fearsome then before. "See what I have become? Mere shadow and vapour..."

Harry nearly fainted from the intensity, the awe that was coursing through Tom and the pain direct from Voldemort.

"How is this possible?" Tom said, face openly mesmerised .

Voldemort's lipless mouth curled into a scowl.

"You are a fragment which became separated," Voldemort hissed. "It was unintentional, however, a part of my soul latched itself onto Potter when he failed to die. Now, I have form only when I can share another's body... Quirrell fortunately, found me in his travels...and there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and mind."

Tom shivered and took a step away from Harry, the broken floorboards creaked beneath his feet.

"Tom-" Harry stumbled, panic coursing through him. And in that moment, he did the only thing that felt rationale. He yanked Tom as hard as he could, back away from Voldemort.

Harry could feel the malcontent, the pure hatred from this figure. There was no way the death eaters had been sent in Harry's best interests.

"Don't be a fool," snarled Voldemort.

Harry wanted to run but Quirrell's body blocked the only exit. Tom snapped out of out his daze, turning back to Harry's pale form as blood still poured from Harry scar. Tom rushed back to Harry's side.

"You're hurting Harry," Tom stammered.

Voldemort's twisted face curled into a cold smile.

"Tom, don't worry about me-" Harry said.

"Is there a way to stop it?" Tom asked, shaking hands checking over Harry, too afraid to look away.

"Potter is depending on you to survive," Quirrell answered, taking a step back so Voldemort was closer. "It is probably because your connection is temporarily pulling the other way which is causing the boy so much discomfort."

"But why am I okay?" Tom asked hurriedly, "Surely there is something you can do?"

"It is not my concern," Voldemort hissed. "If anything, I see it as a fitting punishment."

"Punishment?" Harry bit out through clenched teeth. "I haven't done anything!"

Quirrell's hand twitched, wand sparking.

"You have endangered my soul once too often," Voldemort hissed. "Your foolishness has nearly cost us everything."

"Harry would never-" Tom said.

Voldemort looked deadly. "And yet, the boy fell off his broom?"

"Tom wasn't hurt-" Harry started, "I didn't mean to-"

"And the troll?" Voldemort demanded.

"But Hermione-"

It was the wrong thing to say.

"If you ever endanger yourself for the sake of a mudblood, I will never let you out of my sight again," Voldemort snarled.

"You can't do that!" Harry protested.

"You dare command me?" Voldemort hissed and Quirrell raised his wand.

"Crucio!" Quirrell hissed.

Tom tried to step between them but he wasn't quick enough. A bright red curse sailed through the air and collided straight with Harry's chest. Something stung, briefly and sharply.

"Ow," Harry muttered, as his chest burnt briefly.

Voldemort's face twisted into a fearsome scowl, nearly causing Harry to collapse.

"There is something protecting the boy," Voldemort seethed.

Quirrell lowered his wand.

"I would be more grateful if I were you, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "Surely you can see your options are limited. Better save your own life and join me..."

"I could just tell the ministry about you," Harry argued. "That you're Voldemort. Then they would have less of a reason to go after me and Tom."

Harry's head exploded and he fell hard onto the dusty floor. Tom fell beside him, gripping his shoulder in support.

"Harry didn't mean it," Tom began frantically, "He would never tell, not after what the ministry just tried to do."

Voldemort did not seem satisfied.

"You guard something very precious to me, Potter. Do you really think that fool, Dumbledore would ever stop trying to destroy you? Do you really think he would ever let you keep a part of my soul?"

"He's right, Harry," Tom cut in at once. "Giving them Voldemort would never stop the ministry, there are probably other ways of separating us."

"But-"

Tom's nails dug into Harry and for the first time since the guillotine, Harry could detect pure fear. Tom was terrified and it was pulsing through every inch of him.

"Please, Harry," Tom pleaded. "Don't make this difficult. Voldemort is our best way at staying together."

Harry swallowed uncomfortably as he tried to understand why Tom was paralysed in fear.

Voldemort's eyes focused on Harry from where they knelt on the floor.

Harry bit his tongue, he didn't want to do this, he couldn't bare that Tom was connected to someone, something, else. It just wasn't fair.

Tom was waiting, he looked deadly pale, drained from two connections.

"Okay," Harry grit out, hoping he wouldn't regret this. "I'll do whatever Tom wants."

Harry felt the rush of immediate relief from Tom. Voldemort too looked pleased.

Harry took a shaky breath. "So, what happens now?"

* * *

Harry's stomach churned as they landed on solid ground. He blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted to the bright sun light of their surroundings. Tom looked around puzzled. They were on a steep path, high on a hillside.

Thankfully, Quirrell adjusted his turban back in place to hide Voldemort's horrendous face from view.

"Where are we?" Tom asked.

Quirrell glanced in the direction of a small village down the hill.

"Hogsmede, the village nearby Hogwarts," he answered.

Fear drenched Harry in an instant.

"You're sending us back?"

"There is something I need to collect," Quirrell replied. "Something hidden deep within the castle and at Hogwarts, I can keep an eye on you both."

"But the Ministry-" Harry started, horrifying images of the guillotine flashing back in his mind.

"The guillotine is broken and the Ministry have lost their window of opportunity. There is little they can do now."

"Except find another way to tear us apart," Harry bit out. He could still see the blade, feel the mesh of the cage against his fingers. He didn't care that it was broken, he would never let anyone try to take Tom from him again.

Quirrell raised an eyebrow at this but Tom interrupted.

"The ministry will think I organised the attack."

Quirrell pulled his cloak high up over his head to obscure his face from view.

"If you follow my orders exactly then you will be safe. I will protect you."

"We wouldn't need protecting if you weren't sending us back to school," Harry mumbled. Tom elbowed Harry in the side and gave him a pointed look.

"What are your orders?" Tom asked.

Quirrell observed them both silently for a moment, eyes lingering on Harry briefly.

"There is a witch waiting for you in the Three Broomstick's, you will speak with her."

Harry looked down the hill at Hogsmede. It certainly seemed an innocent enough request. Tom seemed to think so too.

"That's it?" Tom frowned.

"I also expect you to make your own way back to the school."

And before Harry could even blink, Quirrell disappeared with a loud crack, taking Voldemort with him.

Finally, at last, Tom and Harry were alone.

It was instant relief. The throbbing pain in Harry's head faded and he sank into Tom, clinging on as if nothing else mattered. Tom watched him anxiously.

"Better?"

Harry shook his head into Tom's shoulder, trying to ignore the churning in his stomach and the absence in his very being. Tom shifted.

"Why did you have to be so difficult?"

Harry blinked, drawing back.

"With what?"

"With Voldemort."

At once the sourness returned to Harry's mouth, he took a slow step away from Tom.

"Voldemort killed my parents."

"True," Tom answered calmly, eyes deadly serious. "And Dumbledore just tried to separate us and have me killed."

"I know that," Harry answered numbly. "Why does that change anything?"

Tom shrugged.

"It doesn't, but I think it counts for something when Voldemort is not trying to murder me."

"Still doesn't mean I have to like him," Harry mumbled, crossing his arms.

Tom opened his mouth to immediately protest but at Harry's begrudging look his eyes softened in an instant. His lips twitched into a smile, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"You don't have to be jealous, Harry."

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not jealous."

Tom's smile split into a wider grin and he twisted Harry back into place.

"You are, aren't you?"

"Stop it," Harry grumbled, trying to pull away.

"You do, which totally isn't fair. You have your own dæmon."

It was the wrong thing to say and Tom knew it. Harry drew a shaky breath, feeling the rush of cold air cut right through him. He was about to reply when the next statement made his blood run cold.

"It hurts doesn't it?" Tom asked. "Being separated from your soul?"

"You mean like you and Voldemort?"

Tom's face at once turned into a frown.

"You could feel something though, couldn't you? Harry continued, eyes shutting momentarily. "It's your own soul after all. You felt connected to Quirrell ever since we met him, but you didn't bother to tell me?"

Tom's hands fell to his side.

"You wouldn't have understood."

"I just lost my dæmon," Harry countered. "You think I don't know what it's like to be connected to something other then you?"

It was harsh and Harry regretted it the second he spoke. Tom's face shifted, eyes hardening.

"Maybe now," he hissed, taking an abrupt step towards Harry. "But how could I tell you before?"

Tom gestured back in the direction of where Quirrell had disappeared.

"How could I ask you to understand, when I didn't even myself?" Tom demanded.

Harry's insides twisted but Tom wasn't finished.

"I was scared, Harry," Tom admitted. "And Quirrell's presence day to day was hurting you. What was I supposed to do?"

"You should have told me," Harry stated numbly. "How am I meant to trust you now?"

Tom was in front of him before Harry could blink. Toms fingers dug into Harry's wrists before he could step away.

"Don't you dare," he hissed, "I thought it was because Quirrell didn't have a dæmon, not that he held my soul. Do you know how much of a relief it is?"

This statement alone crushed Harry completely. He tried to pull away but Tom wouldn't let him.

"I'm sorry," Harry tried to reassure Tom. "I don't care that you're connected to Voldemort."

Tom's eyes immediately slid away and he smiled sadly.

"You've never been a very good liar, Harry."

* * *

Hogsmede was a quiet village. A few shops lay dotted around, and for most part the streets were empty. Harry moved quickly, sticking as close to Tom as possible as he glanced over back over his shoulder.

Fortunately, they found the Three Broomstick's easily. It turned out to be an old looking pub in the middle of town. Harry had barely stepped inside when Tom leaned up close, his hands tugging around Harry's waist.

"Look cute," he whispered.

"What?-"

There was a flash and Harry blinked furiously.

In front of them stood a witch, tall and blonde with the widest grin Harry had ever seen. A hideous crocodile handbag swung from her arm and large spectacles covered her eyes. Beside her floated a camera which flashed again.

Harry took an anxious step back.

The woman only took another step forwards, hand darting out to grip Harry's shoulder painfully tight.

"Rita Skeeter," she introduced herself smoothly, spinning Harry around expertly and pushing him in the direction of a private room. "You don't mind if I use a quick-quotes quill do you?"

Out of her handbag floated a horrible acid green quill and numerous pieces of parchment.

Harry twisted his head as she guided him forwards and into a private room.

"A reporter?" Harry mouthed towards Tom.

Tom however, flashed his best smile.

"Forgive Harry, he's not used to the attention," Tom said.

The witch's smile flickered.

"I can answer any questions you may have though?" Tom added, smile widening.

"Of course," Rita Skeeter rearranged her face in what must have been an attempt at a grin. She paused and remained standing close to Harry. Her quill started scribbling away.

"You may call me Tom," Tom continued, and then he tilted his head expertly. "I'm sorry, but I don't see your dæmon?"

She looked surprised by his name before she settled her face back in a large fake smile

"Oh, he's around."

"Of course," Tom smiled. "You mentioned something about a quick-quotes?"

He looked towards the quill, which at once stopped moving.

Rita Skeeter battered her hand.

"Oh, it's nothing special. I just want to make sure I capture everything. The ministry has been running around in circle's for days and it's all been very hush hush. I suppose you're the reason?" She looked at Harry, expectantly.

Harry however, bit his lip.

"You've not been gaining your information from the ministry then?" Tom pressed, boyish charm shining through and reverting her attention from Harry again. "You seem to know who I am, after all?"

Rita Skeeter's smile faded completely this time.

"I suppose you've had instructions?" Tom continued, eye's piercing into her own.

"Something like that," Rita Skeeter responded slowly as even her fake smile slipped

Tom grinned.

"Good, shall we continue then?"

He sat down and tugged Harry next to him.

Rita Skeeter remained standing, quill hovering by her shoulder.

"So, you don't remember a thing?" she tested.

"Of course I don't," Tom looked sheepish, running a hand through his hair. "Do you think I would be going through school again if I did?"

Rita Skeeter laughed, her voice unnervingly high pitched as her quill scribbled away.

"Harry, do you like having..." She paused before testing the name. "Tom, as a dæmon? It must be traumatic for you, knowing who he is?"

Harry jutted his chin up at this. "No, it's not. Tom's mine."

Tom rolled his eyes.

"So, what are the ministry planning on doing with you?" Skeeter looked pointedly between Tom and Harry. "We've had nothing but dead ends with the minister, and you can imagine the blackout on information."

Tom arranged his face perfectly, tears expertly welling in his eyes.

"They just tried tearing us apart," he deliberately pulled Harry closed at this. "If the Death Eaters hadn't come-"

Rita Skeeter's quick-quotes quill dropped to the floor. Harry wasn't sure if it was from excitement or fear.

"Death Eaters-?"

* * *

"You have to admit," Tom smiled as they walked back across the Hogwarts grounds. "It's a clever plan."

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and shot Tom a wary glance.

"It might not work," he retorted. "I still think we should run."

"Running is useless," Tom said. "Voldemort would just have some Death Eaters pick us up again."

"I still don't like it," Harry mumbled. "Just because someone writes a report in our favour doesn't mean the ministry are going to let us stay together."

"The whole trial was out of order," Tom answered calmly. "Fudge wanted the whole thing hushed up for a reason. It's all politics and with the public on our side they'll be little room for the ministry to manoeuvre."

"If the public will be on our side," Harry pointed out.

Tom halted, stopping on the expanse area of grass. He gave Harry a stern look and crossed his arms.

"You're the Boy Who Lived, Harry. Not to forget, you just lost your dæmon because of the ministry. It won't matter what I once was."

"It does, everyone will still think you're a murdering Dark Lord," Harry said. "They're not going to forget in a hurry."

"No," Tom agreed. "However, coming between a wizard and their dæmon is a huge taboo. Let alone trying to rip one from a child, which incidentally is what the Ministry just tried to do. Every witch and wizard has a connection like we do. And nothing is more important, more precious then their dæmons. They will understand."

Harry gave Tom a sceptical look.

"And if anything goes wrong, we just wait for Voldemort to save us?"

Tom stopped suddenly, concern at once flashing over his face.

"Tom-?" Harry started hesitantly.

He reached forwards slowly but Tom remained still, eyes avoiding Harry's own. Harry felt as if his insides had frozen. Tom was feeling exactly the same when he'd agreed to side with Voldemort, complete and utter terror.

"Tom, what's wrong? Why are you so scared of Voldemort? He's not going to hurt you."

"No, he's not," Tom agreed.

"Tom, tell me-"

Tom's shoulders tensed.

"You know I would always choose you, don't you?"

Harry stopped, instant dread filling him. He'd never contemplated that Tom would leave on his own accord, never thought that would be an option. He ignored the concerns erupting in the back of his mind, didn't want to ask again for fear of rejection.

"Why are you saying that?"

It was useless to lie. Harry could feel every emotion and he knew that something was wrong.

Tom didn't say a word. Harry didn't know if this was worse or not, that Tom was deliberately choosing not explain.

Harry couldn't find his voice. Tom had lied about Quirrell, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Just promise me, you'll remember."

"Tom-"

"Promise me," Tom insisted, squeezing Harry's arm.

Harry's gut twisted painfully, but Tom wouldn't say another word.

* * *

Harry trudged back into the castle, feeling worse then he ever had. His dæmon was long gone and Tom still hadn't settled as he refused to say any more about Voldemort.

The Entrance Hall was busy as students came and went from dinner. Harry hadn't realised how late it was and his stomach churned painfully. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten and he had no appetite.

Just as they were about to sneak up to the common room, a couple of familiar faces stepped out of the hall.

Ramiron noticed them in an instant and he squeaked to get Hermione's attention. Her face lit up in surprise, as she ran up to them both.

"You did it, I can't believe you did it!" she exclaimed, jumping up and down.

"Let them breathe, Hermione," Ron said, but Ramiron was racing round Tom at one hundred miles per hour.

"What happened?" Hermione pressed as she plastered a wide smile on her face.

Harry couldn't manage it, the absence of his dæmon and the lingering awkwardness with Tom was too much. His expression must have said it all.

Ron and Hermione noticed and Ramiron and Sephronia stilled.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted, looking between Harry and Tom anxiously. "What happened?"

Ramiron brushed against Tom's leg in an attempt to comfort them.

Tom didn't even get a chance to say anything.

A voice snapped out from the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Potter!"

All six of them jumped.

It was Snape. Harry wanted to shrink and disappear, he didn't want to face the consequences so soon. He wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed with Tom.

Laraine, Snape's dæmon, bated her wings, intense bat eyes darting over them both.

Snape didn't waste any time.

"Come with me, now!" he demanded.

Harry gripped Tom's hand. Surely this couldn't get any worse.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Laraine didn't take her eyes off Harry. It was unnerving the way she perched on Snape's shoulder, peering back at them as they ascended the never ending staircases. Harry tried not to stumble as his breathing slowed with every step. Tom dragged Harry along as his nails dug into Harry's hand. The pain was an odd comfort and something which Harry could focus on. Harry didn't know if it was a relief or not when Snape finally led them into the Hospital Wing.

"Sit," Snape instructed as he gestured towards a bed. When Harry didn't move, Tom gripped his shoulder and pushed him.

"Stop it, I'm fine," Harry said, but Tom barely needed to exert any effort. Instead Harry found himself sinking onto the bed and into Tom's shoulder.

Not a moment later, did Einaris appear in the doorway. The large tabby shifted from solid to transparent in one fluid movement as Professor McGonagall appeared next to her dæmon.

"Oh, thank Merlin!"

Harry's head was spinning. He might have been shocked by their concern if his own torment wasn't so overwhelming.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey wasn't far away. She appeared from her office, her brow creased at the commotion, before her face drained at the sight of them. She rushed forwards and at once pressed her hand against against burning his forehead. It was a cool relief and thankfully Madam Pomfrey was very careful not to touch his scar. She placed a potion into Harry's hand.

"Sit up," she encouraged.

Harry reluctantly moved his head as Madam Pomfrey's hedgehog approached Tom. He was a very small dæmon and his nose twitched as he shuffled closer. He gave Tom a sharp prod before sinking his teeth directly into Tom's hand.

"Ow!" Harry flinched as Tom recoiled, glaring at the dæmon. He looked like he was contemplating batting it aside, but the large spikes stayed his hand.

"Kulang?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

This time her hedgehog approached Harry. He was very careful not to make contact as he sniffed. It happened so suddenly, Kulang withdrew, visibly alarmed as he hurried back to Madam Pomfrey who embraced him. Before he could explain, Snape's bat swooped from his shoulder, coming to land on the bedpost beside Harry.

"You can feel it too then?" Laraine asked.

Kulang curled tight into a ball and shivered while Madam Pomfrey tried to settle him. Einaris took a few tentative steps forward as he also sniffed the air.

"Potter is empty," Kulang whispered.

Einaris slit eyes widened as his fur stuck up on end. It was almost like he was sensing a threat but was unsure about how to approach it.

"Physically, Potter appears to be fine," Madam Pomfrey said as she clutched Kulang close. She beckoned Harry to drink up. "But something is terribly wrong."

"No wonder," McGonagall said. "First, the trial and now Death Eaters!"

"I don't think that's what our dæmons are referring to," Snape said as he held out his arm for Larine to return to him. She took one last sharp look at Harry before swooping away.

"Potter, what happened?" McGonagall asked.

It hurt to say it. Instead Harry took Madam Pomfrey's advice as he pressed the glass to his mouth and downed the potion in one. It took effect immediately as the torture on his soul lessoned. Harry sank further into Tom's embrace.

"She left," Harry said. "I said I didn't want her-"

It happened simultaneously. All three dæmons froze as the the true horror of what had occurred became clear.

"Who left?" McGonagall asked as she looked anxiously between Einaris and Harry.

"Harry's dæmon left, his real one," Tom said quietly. "During the trial."

"Your dæmon left?" McGonagall gasped.

At Harry's numb nod, Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and flicked it twice. A dozens more potions flew across from the cabinet on the wall. She began shifting through them as she selected a few to pass to Harry. When Harry didn't move to drink them immediately, she pushed one to his mouth causing him to cough and splutter.

"Severus, I'm going to need more Draught of Peace," Madam Pomfrey said.

However, Snape wasn't listening. He looked deadly pale and was totally fixed on Tom.

"What was the sentence?" he asked.

"Separate us and destroy me immediately," Tom answered, "Naturally if my Death Eaters hadn't arrived, they would have succeeded."

Tom's gaze deliberately settled on Snape's left arm which caused Laraine's eyes to finally shift away and a furious expression to cross Snape's face. His hand closed around his wrist. Snape opened his mouth as if wanting to say something, but when Tom's gaze remained unwavering, Snape turned with Laraine on his shoulder and stormed out of the room. Harry was totally confused, however he was distracted as Madam Pomfrey uncorked another potion and pushed it into his hand.

"Well thank goodness for that."

"Poppy!" McGonagall exclaimed.

The matron fixed her colleague with a sharp look.

"Well, we're all thinking it, removing a dæmon from a child. I can't think of a worse crime. It could have killed Potter or worse!"

McGonagall sighed.

"You know I agree on that. I meant the Death Eaters."

"I find it difficult to differentiate who is the lesser of two evils, to be honest," Madam Pomfrey clipped.

"Well the Ministry aren't winning any favours," McGonagall agreed. "But this is Death Eaters we're talking about. Their return is only going to make things more complicated."

It was exactly as Harry had feared. Tom was going to get the blame and was going to be held responsible for all those who died or were injured in the attack. He should never have listened to Voldemort, they should have just run while they had the chance.

"Does anyone know that Potter has been found?" McGonagall asked.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head.

"Severus bought the boys in," she said. "I don't think alerting the ministry was his initial concern."

McGonagall sighed heavily, while Einaris came to paw at her legs. She raised her wand.

"Don't-" Harry started. But it was too late, in a flash of gold Fawkes appeared.

Harry couldn't help it as his hand tightened in Tom's. Fawkes turned, large eyes taking in both Harry and Tom, before he disappeared in another flash of flames. Panic consumed Harry, but he had no strength, no ability to protest. He tired to stand, only for Tom to pull him back to the bed.

Sure enough, they didn't have to wait long for two very unwelcome people to enter the room.

Tom was up before anyone could move as he positioned himself in front of Harry.

"Touch Harry and I will kill you," he hissed.

Harry eyes scanned over Dumbledore and Scrimgeour with his ginger tabby. Scimgeour had a nasty looking cut across his face which was clearly oozing fresh blood.

Madam Pomfrey marched up to them as she waved her wand wildly.

"Out, out!" she snapped, "This boy needs rest."

"Stand aside, this is a ministry affair," Scrimgeour instructed gruffly. Although his own wand was drawn, he did not raise it.

Harry really hoped that no other people had died in the Death Eater attack, but judging from the darker red stains across Scrimgeour's uniform, he really doubted it.

"I don't care!" Madam Pomfrey continued. "This boy is in my charge and I won't have you traumatising him any longer."

Kulang, although small, jumped forwards and snarled at Nala. Nala arched her back and hissed, ginger fur sticking up.

"Poppy, please," Dumbledore raised his hands. "I have no intentions of removing Harry from your care at this current time. I only wish to speak to him."

Neither Madam Pomfrey or Tom moved. Kulang snarled and made a snap of his teeth towards Nala.

"Minerva, Poppy, if you would please excuse us?" Dumbledore asked.

Professor McGonagall looked between the group, eyes lingering on Harry and Tom for a moment before she nodded. She called softly to Einaris who followed. Madam Pomfrey stared at Dumbledore, gaze stern. She looked ready for a full blown fight, so Harry was startled when she relented.

"Five minutes only," she snapped. She scooped up Kulang and proceeded into her office. The door slammed shut.

Tom's grip was iron tight on Harry as Dumbledore approached. Dumbledore however, stopped just short of Harry's bed as he waved his wand. Harry flinched, his mind flashing back to the silver blade. Tom noticed and he ran his own thumb across Harry's hand in what little comfort he could offer.

"I am sorry for what you had to go through, Harry." Dumbledore said calmly as he summoned two large arm chairs. He sat down in one, while Scrimgeour remained standing.

"No you're not," Harry retorted. "You'd do it again."

Dumbledore peered at him closely, blue eyes still behind his half moon glasses.

"From what I understand, you have spoken to a reporter called Rita Skeeter?"

Harry blinked, surprised. Had Dumbledore been watching Hogsmede, or had Voldemort arranged for that to be leaked as well. Caught off guard, Harry nodded slowly.

Now, Scrimgeour raised his wand, his irritation apparent as he scowled.

"I have aurors in position at the Prophet, but you know the Minister is unlikely to move now, not until he knows the direction the public will swing."

Dumbledore sighed.

"I am aware of that, Rufus, however, censorship of the press will only make things worse, I warned the Minister and he failed to listen, which now leaves our options rather limited."

"I would like to reiterate my concerns on that particular option, Albus. The boy has been found guilty, you know I cannot allow Riddle to remain unaccounted for."

Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"And Harry is innocent in all of this. As I have already explained to the Minister, I am satisfied in keeping them at Hogwarts for now."

"We cannot leave them here!" Scrimgeour snapped. "I don't care what either of you have to say, I have every right to contain them."

"You have every right to contain Tom, certainly, but I cannot allow your department custody of Harry. Unfortunately, this would clash with other arrangements. "

Scrimgeour fumed as blood trickled down his face as his untreated wound opened up.

"The least you can do is let me put a guard on Riddle?"

Much to Harry's surprise, Dumbledore shook his head.

"I am satisfied with the security already in place, unless of course you think this has been compromised?"

Harry felt as if he'd been plunged into a bucket of icy water.

"What do you mean by that?" Harry asked, he knew they'd been watched but had the teachers really gone beyond this.

Scrimgeour ignored his question, shaking his head in reply to Dumbledore.

"So you're really not going to take us back to the Ministry?" Tom interjected.

Scrimgeour glared at him.

"That is to be seen."

Dumbledore however, seemed to have other intentions.

"Where did the Death Eaters take you, Harry?" he asked.

Harry was almost giddy with relief, would they really get to stay at Hogwarts,

"I don't know. It was old and dusty, I didn't recognise it."

Tom squeezed Harry's arm painfully.

"Why did the Death Eaters bring you back to school?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry's chest was tight, his heart hammering as he failed to think of an answer. Tom however, tilted his head as his expression darkened.

"Because I told them to," Tom said.

This lie was chilling enough. Scrimgeour seemed to think so to as he raised an eyebrow.

"They listened to you?"

Tom's grin sharpened.

"Of course they did."

Scrimgeour turned to Dumbledore.

"How can I leave him here, for all we know he orchestrated the whole thing."

"Oh yes," Tom began sarcastically and without hesitation. "Because I would willing walk into the Ministry, subject myself to trial and then, only then, allow my Death Eaters to intervene."

"Tom has not had any contact with any of his followers, I can assure you of that." Dumbledore added.

Scrimgeour coughed at this.

"I would remind you that-"

"I have assured the Minister myself regarding that situation," Dumbledore said sharply.

Scrimgeour huffed. He didn't look happy as Nala hissed. Scrimgeour turned to Tom with a scowl on his face.

"You better tread carefully, boy. Any word that you are using Potter's wand, or threatening students. I will have someone tailing you dawn till dusk. Do you understand?"

Tom flicked his eyes towards Scrimgeour with a smirk.

"Yes."

"Your wand," The Scrimgeour grunted as he placed the small wooden box down on Harry's bedside table.

Harry grabbed it at once, but he held off his desperation to open it and give it to Tom. Although Harry would feel safer, he didn't think it would go down particularly well.

"You will subject your wand to random periods of investigation. Any spells or curses that aren't on the Hogwarts first year curriculum and I will have your wand confiscated."

"But how am I meant to learn magic then?" Harry protested.

"Under strict supervision," Scrimgeour answered coldly. "If you cannot follow these rules, then you will lose all privileges and will risk arrest."

"But Dumbledore said-" Harry started.

"Aiding the Dark Lord in any form is against our laws, Mr Potter. If I have just reason to lock you up as well, then not even public support will save you."

* * *

It was hours later when Madam Pomfrey finally let Ron and Hermione into visit. Harry forced a smile onto his face as he blinked back his exhaustion. Ramiron bounded up to Tom and jumped into his arms.

"Dumbledore explained what happened," Hermione started as she retrieved Ramiron out of Tom's stiff grip. "I'm so sorry, Harry."

Even Sephronia, although avoiding Tom, skirted around Harry as seemingly wondering how to offer comfort. Ron had his hands stuffed into his pocket, and had an awkward expression on his face.

"How much did he tell you?" Harry asked, watching for their reaction.

"Everything," Ron replied. Hermione shook her head slightly, just enough so Harry would notice.

"He said your dæmon left and that the Wizengamot tried to remove Tom and failed. Is the bit about the Death Eaters really true?" he added. "Did they really abduct you?"

Harry nodded.

"Whoah!" Ron seemed impressed. "How did you get away?"

"They didn't expect Tom to be so good at magic," Harry lied before Tom could get a word in. "Then we just ran."

"Cool," Ron grinned.

Harry ignored Hermione's rolling eyes and Tom's raised eyebrow as he grinned back.

"What?" Ron asked pointedly, looking between the two of them.

"Nothing," Tom replied lightly.

Hermione however, huffed as Ramiron jumped out of her arms.

"You need to tell him, Harry. It's not fair."

Immediately Ron was on the defensive.

"Tell me what?"

Harry glared at Hermione.

"It doesn't matter, it's none of her business."

Sephronia barked at him, before Ron turned back to Harry. Ron seemed to be want to push it, but at Hermione's hurt expression he faltered. Harry turned away from her. He didn't care that Ramiron was whimpering.

"So why did your dæmon leave?" Ron asked hesitantly.

"Harry chose Tom," Hermione sniffed.

"Yeah, I know that," Ron stuffed his hands in his pockets. "But dæmons don't just leave. I mean if Tom was going to be removed, Harry's dæmon would get Harry anyway?"

Hermione stopped short, wiping away the tear that had been threatening to fall down her face. Tom however, leaned back and crossed his arms. He surveying Ron with a lot more interest than he had ever shown before.

"That is a very good point," he said softly.

Ron shared a confused look with Sephronia. "It is?"

Hermione bit her lip and nodded.

"It means we've got it all wrong," Hermione began as turning to Harry. "It means your dæmon didn't leave you because you chose Tom."

Harry looked at her, sceptical. "What are you on about?"

Hermione looked tentative before she continued.

"Well, you're tied to your dæmon and to Tom. It's only natural your dæmon cares about him as much as you do. I guess you don't understand as much because you've never seen her, but your dæmon is you, a piece of you just on the outside. Your dæmon wouldn't care that you choose Tom, because she would choose Tom too."

Harry bit his lip, not convinced.

"Hermione's right, Harry," Tom said quietly. "Your dæmon could have left at any point. But she didn't, she wanted everyone to see."

"I said I didn't want her-"

"After the Minister said removing me might kill you if your dæmon wasn't there," Tom said.

"So...she left so the Ministry wouldn't have a choice?" Harry said. "They would have to keep us together?"

Tom nodded.

"Unfortunately, the Ministry didn't care. They had made up their minds regardless of the risk to yourself."

Harry felt a surge of fondness for the dæmon he had never knew.

"D...do you think she'll ever come back?" Harry asked quietly.

Hermione's expression turned somber at this statement. Fortunately, Ron and Hermione didn't have to say anymore.

"Right that's enough, I said ten minutes," Madam Pomfrey bustled back in. "This boy needs rest."

The hospital wing plunged into darkness as soon as she had scooted Ron and Hermione out, and Harry was finally left alone with Tom.

"You do know Ron is going to find out about me when Skeeter's article comes out," Tom said.

"I know," Harry sighed. "Just I couldn't tell him...not yet."

Tom was silent for a long while. It was unnerving how Harry could detect his disappointment.

"I've asked you before if you're ashamed of me?" Tom said softly.

"I'm not ashamed," Harry insisted, tugging at Tom's sleeve as he lay down. "Anyway, we need to do something about my wand. Do you think Quirrell would get you one if we asked?" he mumbled as his eyes flicked closed.

Tom didn't move. He perched on the bed as Harry drifted off into a restless sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry woke to a pounding headache. Groaning, he rolled over, reaching for Tom. He wasn't there. Harry sat up in a blind panic, stomach twisting as he blinked rapidly. He tried to focus but he room started to spin.

"I'm here."

At once warm fingers curled around him. Harry felt the rush of comfort, but the hole was still there, the painful absence which Tom had never filled. His glasses were pressed into his hand and Harry fumbled to put them on as he tried to keep as much contact with Tom as he could.

"Madam Pomfrey left you those to drink," Tom said as he came into focus. He pointed to the half dozen bottles on the table beside them. "They'll help."

Harry's stomach churned. He was unable to shake his rising exhaustion and terror. Instead Harry looked towards his bedpost where Hedwig was perched. She chirped loudly, flapping her wings at the paper at her feet before she proceeded to rummage in the cereal box which had also been left out.

"I've not read it yet," Tom offered, taking some of the potions and pushing them into Harry's clammy hands. Harry's stomach churned, unsure about whether he wanted to read it or not.

However, they didn't have to wait very long.

"This is brilliant," Hermione beamed, waving the article in front of them as she bounded into the Hospital Wing. "The Ministry has no room to manoeuvre now."

Harry caught a glimpse of the headline. He looked over at Tom who picked up their copy that Hedwig had dropped.

"Tom Riddle, Dark Lord or Dæmon?" Tom read as a slight smile appeared on his face.

Harry felt like burying his head in the ground. He'd been sort of hoping his interview with Rita Skeeter wouldn't get published. Sure enough, there was a picture of him and Tom entering the Three Broomstick's. Harry stared at himself. He winced at how pale and totally lost and confused he looked.

"It's not a bad thing," Tom added, as his photograph leaned into pull photograph Harry close. "Sympathy will go along way."

"I don't want sympathy," Harry grumbled.

Tom just ruffled his hair. He read silently for a moment before he looked at Harry and picked out a particularly embarrassing statement.

"Mr Potter was surprisingly brave and coherent," he read. "It was clear that Mr Riddle's presence was the only thing sustaining Mr Potter, considering the trauma he had just been forced to endure."

Harry winced but Hermione only beamed.

"It mainly focus' on the trial and the disappearance of your dæmon," Hermione said as she scratched Ramiron behind his ears. "Of course it also mentions the Death Eater attack, but they've spun that in defence of you."

Harry blinked.

"What, why?"

"The Ministry don't want panic, and the combination of You Know Who returning and a Death Eater attack is going to do just that. This article slams the Wizengamot, of course, but it's stirred up enough of a debate while the Ministry seem to remain in control. It makes sense after all, Death Eaters were always for blood purity."

"And blood purity links directly with dæmons?" Tom asked.

Hermione nodded.

"Well, sort of, muggles don't have dæmons after all. It certainly puts you in a favourable light, or at least identifies you as the sole thing to keep Harry alive and safe."

"So Tom's untouchable?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes and no. It means the Ministry are going to need a lot of public support to attempt anything again. People are furious, Harry, don't you see? Nothing should come between a person and their dæmon. Nothing."

Tom was positively smiling now.

"And because Harry's dæmon left?"

"Let's just say you've stirred things up big time. There's an inquiry ongoing about what happened," Hermione said.

"There is?" Tom grinned, however, Harry had a more pressing question that had been bothering him since only Hermione and Ramiron had stepped into the Hospital Wing.

"Has Ron seen it?" Harry asked tentatively.

Hermione's face dropped and she bit her lip, clearly not sure of how to proceed.

"He just needs time," Hermione offered as Ramiron nudged against Tom. Tom ignored the otter, he couldn't care less if Ron was ignoring them.

Harry deflated as he sat back against his pillows.

"I can speak to him," Hermione said. She gathered Ramiron up hurriedly in her arms when Tom glared at the small creature. "I'll try and get him to come and visit."

It was pointless to say it, but Harry just nodded as his stomach twisted.

"Thanks, Hermione."

Tom turned back to the paper, unconcerned, before his face drained of all colour.

"What?" Harry asked. He sat up too quickly which only caused his head to spin.

Tom looked at him carefully, while Hermione looked between the two of them nervously.

"It says the Silver guillotine was stolen," Tom said.

Harry's eyes widened as his heart beat raced.

"The Death Eaters?"

"I would assume so," Tom replied softly. He turned back to the paper. "Apparently because it's broken there is no need for concern."

"Well good," Hermione said with a nervous smile, but Harry couldn't ignore Tom's flash of terror, nor the smile which was so clearly fake.

* * *

Harry and Tom were in the hospital wing for the rest of the week. Madam Pomfrey has been determined to keep a solid eye on them both and Kulang often appeared to check on them. Hermione and Ramiron popped in whenever they could, but it had been fairly tedious and uneventful.

It wasn't until the fifth morning that Madam Pomfrey finally released Harry and Tom her clutches. Harry skipped breakfast and went straight to the library.

Ron and Sephronia still hadn't been into see them since the article had been published and Harry had no desire to go and find him.

When Harry still hadn't moved after their first class. Tom was getting restless.

"You can't hide in here forever."

Harry remained unmoving as he turned a page of his book. He'd be quite happy if he managed to avoid the rest of the school for the remainder of his time at Hogwarts, unfortunately this plan didn't last very long. There was a gentle tap at the end of the aisle.

It was Hermione.

"I got you a copy of the notes," she offered. She moved forwards and set herself down beside Harry.

"Thanks, Hermione."

"You know, it's not going to be that bad."

That certainly earned her a look.

"You ran away when you first found out," Harry said.

Ramiron who had been shifting around her ankles, squeaked at this. At Harry's complete lack of movement, Hermione sighed.

"Come on, we'll be late for Potions and Snape will kill you."

"Is Ron going to be there?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to give him a look.

"You can't avoid him forever."

"I can try," Harry huffed.

Unfortunately, Tom was set on pulling Harry out of the library and it happened to be right when the students made their way between classes. It was consuming and everything Harry feared. They knew, they all knew. He would have stopped walking if it wasn't for the slight nudge in his back.

The crowd opened up as they walked. Harry really wished he'd waited and gone to Potions late. Nothing was worse than the hundreds of eyes following him, the hushed whispers and the fact that every dæmon drew away.

Tom squeezed his shoulder, but this only caused more whispers and cold looks. Some older students even had their wands out as they held back slightly so the younger students come rush past.

Ramiron moved between Hermione's legs as she walked, and she offered Harry a weak encouraging smile.

Harry didn't know if it was a relief or not when they finally made it into the potions corridor. The buzz of chatter instantly fell silent.

Draco welcomed them both with a grin, Adara who had been curled around his shoulders perked her head up.

Harry swallowed, grateful that at least one among the hostile faces looked pleased to see them. He took an apprehensive step forwards, although he didn't get far.

"I believe we started off on the wrong foot," Blaise smiled as he stepped forwards. He held out his hand as Lalini, his cheetah dipped her head, large eyes fixed solely on Tom.

Harry paused and stared warily at it. He could feel the Gryffindor's eyes bearing down on him and he knew that Ron was among them.

When Harry didn't take it, Blaise's smile flickered.

"I only want to make sure there is no bad blood between us," Blaise added, hand still held out.

This only left a soul taste in Harry's mouth. He may as well take the plunge.

"In other words, you're scared of Tom?"

Lalini shifted at this comment and the intake of breaths was simultaneous.

"I'm not scared," Blaise said as his eyebrows creased. It didn't help when half of the Slytherin's snickered.

"You're a fool not to be," Draco added, as he flicked a grin towards Harry and Tom.

Blaise looked taken aback. He looked towards Lalini and the other Slytherin's but when none of them offered any advise he dived straight back in.

"You knew then?"

The other Slytherin's turned to look at him expectantly. Harry just wanted to shrink back, he really was outnumbered here.

"Yes," was Harry's only contribution as he crossed his arms annoyed. He didn't want to be here anyway. It was like being dissected.

Some of the dæmons shifted uncomfortably as his classmates broke out into hushed angry whispers.

"So, why do you hang out with the mudblood then?" Blaise asked surprised.

Harry frowned, both Draco and Voldemort had used that expression before when referring to Hermione, and from the sharp intake of breath from their classmates it could only be offensive.

"She's my friend," Harry retorted.

Blaise's smile slipped.

"I wasn't asking you,"

The effect was instantaneous. This was apparently a step too far.

"Blaise," Draco warned as Adara hissed at Lalini. "Know your place."

Blaise ignored him while Lalini bared her sharp razor like teeth.

"I'm only asking," he muttered. He looked at Tom apologetically and shrugged.

Harry however, gritted his teeth as he glared at Draco.

"Don't," he said. "Tom is not above any of you."

Draco held up his hands. Adara dipped her head too.

"I'm only being respectful," he muttered.

"It's not respect," Harry stated coldly. "It's fear."

Tom only grinned as a smile tugged onto his face.

"It still works the same way, Harry. Either way, I could get used to being called Dark Lord."

It was the first time Tom had spoken and their classmates gaped. The Gryffindor's looked practically horrified by Tom's words. Some of the Slytherin's looked torn between amusement and shock.

"You're sick."

Harry felt his stomach plummet. It was Ron.

"He's You Know Who," Ron jabbed his hand towards Tom. "And you're treating this like some sort of joke! Do you know what he has done?"

Harry's face drained of all colour. He had read about Voldemort but that didn't mean he knew of the extent of the Dark Lords crimes.

"Voldemort killed my parents," Harry answered coldly. "I know what he is capable of."

There was a chorus of gasps as his classmates stared at him in horror.

"And you're okay with that?" Ron demanded as Sephronia growled.

"Of course not, but Tom is not the same person," Harry said.

"You're kidding yourself," Ron responded. "He's a cold blooded murderer, you should hate him!"

"I grew up with Tom," Harry snapped. "Don't you dare tell me how I should feel about him."

His wand was out now as sparks spat from it. Harry wished he'd learnt a few more curses. He was almost tempted to give it to Tom.

"So?" Ron countered. "That doesn't excuse what he's done."

"He's not done anything," Harry snapped, ignoring Sephronia who was still growling.

"He's a murderer," Ron hissed.

There was a cough, just loud enough to catch their attention. Harry spun around, only to find Tom with a smile on his face. There was an instant hush among the others.

"What?" Ron demanded.

Tom's smile widened.

"If you've got a problem with Harry, don't use me as an excuse," Tom said, as he leaned against the corridor wall.

Ron flushed bright red.

"What are you on about?" Harry spat.

Tom crossed his arms.

"Come on, Harry. You can't be surprised that he's mad at you. This isn't even about me."

"Yes it is," Harry bit out as his fist curled tighter around his wand.

"Please, you Gryffindor's are idiots. Ron has never liked me so why do you care now?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but he couldn't find an argument to this. Instead he reverted back to what Ron had been saying.

"You're not dangerous!" Harry fumed.

"His reaction is perfectly normal, what did you expect? You lied to him," Tom shrugged, ignoring Harry's last statement. "Plus Hermione agrees with me."

All heads darted in Hermione's direction. She drew Ramiron close. Harry gave her a disbelieving look.

"You had plenty of opportunities to tell him," Hermione said.

"You did know then?" Ron demanded as he turned his fury to Hermione.

Fortunately for Hermione, Draco cut in.

"Granger worked it out weeks ago you moron."

This only caused Ron's face to redden and Sephronia to bark.

"You knew as well?"

Harry stared at them all in disbelief. Ron was mad at him because he hadn't told him, not because of who Tom was.

"I didn't plan on anyone finding out to be fair," Harry started exasperated.

Tom ruffled Harry's hair as he grinned. "I always said you were naive."

Now it was Harry's turn to flush red, he pushed Tom away.

Fortunately, that was when Snape decided to appear.

"Get in, now!" he snapped.

Ron stormed past him with Sephronia at his heels. The others followed, as Blaise only looked amused as Hermione shot Harry a pleading look.

Potions was fairly normal in comparison. Harry paired up with Draco and Adara as he didn't want to hear Hermione's lecture. Snape prowled around the class, snapping at everyone's poor attempt at the draught they were meant to be making.

Ron continued to ignore Harry as he threw his ingredients into his cauldron violently, which had already made several large smoke clouds appear in the room.

Harry tried to ignore him in return, but he couldn't get help but sneak anxious looks across the classroom.

"I'm sorry about your dæmon," someone behind him said.

Harry nearly dropped his insect wings. He hadn't noticed Neville appear.

"What...?"

Neville shuffled on his feet.

"She will come back," Neville continued as he glanced around to check that Snape was still on the other side of the classroom.

"You don't know that," Harry whispered. He tried to ignore the consuming emptiness which was again taking hold, the feeling that was always there.

Neville distinctly didn't meet Harry's gaze this time.

"Just don't give up on her, Harry."

Harry couldn't help it. His gaze slipped automatically over at Cyrilla. She was currently a rabbit and remained sitting back near Neville's own potion.

"Neville, d-did you lose your dæmon?"

The bell rang.

"Potions to the front now!" Snape demanded.

Neville jumped a mile as he hurried away from Harry. Neville left class before Harry could say anything else to him.

* * *

Harry's week didn't get any better, Ron and Sephronia continued to ignore them and Harry has been dreading Defence Against the Arts. He'd tried to convince Tom to skip class and hide in the Library again, but he'd had no luck.

Tom was clearly affected, more so then usual. He couldn't stay still, he was almost hypersensitive as they walked to class.

The lesson itself was normal enough. Quirrell stuttered about a few dark creatures and demonstrated how best to identify them. Harry spent the entire time stabbing his textbook with his quill and massaging his pounding headache.

As soon as the bell went, Harry was on his feet, gathering up his text books. He didn't get very far.

"P-Potter," Quirrell stammered. "W-wait behind, I-I need to run t-through the work you missed."

"Sir, I have transfiguration next and I don't want to be late," Harry said as he threw his bag over his shoulder. "Plus, Hermione went through the notes with me anyway."

It was a blatant lie and Harry felt a flash of pain pierce through his head.

"It's alright, Harry," Hermione smiled. "I'll tell Professor McGonagall."

Harry dropped his bag back to the floor as he watched his classmates leave. He couldn't help but feel a bitter disappointment towards Hermione, Ron would have caught on.

Tom was right by his side and it was his rush of exhilaration which made Harry's stomach twist as the door shut.

Quirrell pulled out his wand as his timid expression disappeared.

"What do you want?" Harry asked. He took an immediate step back.

"You will leave us for a moment," Quirrell said to Harry.

"No," Harry protested. He moved to grab Tom's wrist. Tom shifted immediately so that he was closer to Quirrell.

Tom looked at Harry, while his eyes sharpened.

"Just do it, Harry," Tom said.

Again, a stab of terror pierced through Harry. It was the same that had flooded through Tom before, but Harry didn't care. Nothing would excuse Tom's reaction.

"I'm not leaving you alone with him," Harry said as his scar burned.

Quirrell moved before Harry had any chance to react. He closed the gap between himself and Tom in an instant.

Harry felt his lungs empty while the room spun. Harry collapsed. Intense agony, even worse then before, ripped through his very soul. The hole his dæmon had left was burning and suffocating. Harry just wanted to die.

Finally, Quirrell let go of Tom.

"Remember who you are addressing, Potter," Quirrell said coldly as his own wand pointed at where he lay on the floor.

Harry spared Tom a pleading look. He was desperate for any sort of interaction, but Tom wouldn't meet his eye. He remained standing by Quirrell's side.

Harry gripped a desk as he pulled himself straight. He wouldn't give Quirrell the satisfaction, but the way Tom was ignoring him made his chest burn.

"You owe me a favour," Tom said.

Harry's mind flashed back to the troll, fists clenching.

"Fine," Harry spat as he shoved deliberately hard into Tom's shoulder. Harry hated how the brief contact was soothing. He forced himself not to turn back, making sure to slam the door behind him.

Almost at once Tom's emotions seemed to intensify. He was buzzing between pure terror and excitement. Harry had to swallow some bile. He stared back at the handle, he was tempted to open the door and interrupt.

It was locked. Harry tugged at it again, harder this time. When this still didn't work, Harry slammed his wrist against the door.

His scar flashed with a searing pain which almost caused his legs to buckle. Harry clenched his forehead and when the stinging didn't subside, Harry banged harder. He didn't want to be alone, it was just like being back in his cupboard. He needed Tom and he needed him now.

"Potter, what an earth are you doing?"

Harry spun around.

Snape's cold eyes swept over him, noting the absence of Tom. In less then a second his wand was out and Harry had to jump hurriedly out of Snape's way.

The classroom door unlocked with a click.

Harry pushed past Snape, causing Laraine to flap out of the way indignantly, but Harry didn't care.

Instant relief flooded through him at the sight of Tom who was now standing further from Quirrell.

"S-Severus," Quirrell stuttered as Snape followed him into the room. "H-how can I-I be of a-assistance?"

"I found a distressed Potter in the corridor," Snape said, "And considering recent circumstances, I wouldn't deem it wise to keep Potter away from his dæmon."

"It was my fault, Professor," Tom said. "Harry's had trouble adjusting and I thought Professor Quirrell might have some advice given that he has also lost a dæmon."

Harry stood hopelessly as Tom's voice washed over him. The relief of seeing Tom was diminishing fast.

"And you found it necessary to exclude Potter from your discussions?" Snape asked, eyebrow raised. His wand was still out.

Tom shuffled on his feet slightly.

"Harry's been distant," he said quietly. "I didn't know what to do."

Harry's mouth fell open. He didn't care that Laraine was watching him as he forced back a retort.

"I would advise not separating yourselves for a start," Snape instructed coolly. His eyes moved to Quirrell's. Laraine screeched, and Harry winced, hands covering his ears.

"Leave," Snape snapped at Harry and Tom.

Harry didn't need telling twice as the door swung shut behind him and Tom with a bang.

Tom didn't wait as he broke out into a brisk pace.

"Well?" Harry asked as he moved to keep up with him.

Tom didn't even look at him.

"Come on, we'll be late for Transfiguration."

Harry's stomach twisted, instant shock reverberating through him as he froze.

"Y-you're not going to tell me?"

Tom continued walking. He didn't even look back in Harry's direction.

"That would defeat the point of Quirrell asking you to leave."

Harry was left with a burning hole in his chest. He followed, shock turning into simmering anger.

"Did you speak to _him_?"

Now Tom stopped. He turned on his heel, tilting his head to the side, his usual friendly eyes now hard.

"No."

Harry breath caught in his throat, vision blurring from the shock.

"W-why are you lying?"


	13. Chapter Thirteen

"Why are you lying?" Harry repeated, his voice louder this time.

Tom still didn't answer. Instead he crossed his arms and his mouth curled into a smile.

"I thought you said you weren't jealous?"

Harry wanted to hit him.

"Just tell me what _he_ said," Harry said as he clenched his fists.

Tom didn't move, nor did he offer anything further.

"Fine," Harry spat. "I'll ask him myself," he turned and started to move back down the corridor towards Quirrell's classroom.

Now Tom moved as he tried to grab Harry's arm. Harry shoved him away hard, as he glared at Tom with cold indifference.

"Stop acting like an idiot," Tom said. "If you are seen to be against me, what do you think Quirrell will do to you?"

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Why do you care?"

Tom's thunderous look was almost worth it but for the heart wrenching pain which rocketed between them.

"Please, Harry. I'm on your side," Tom said. Harry gave Tom a cold look equal to his own.

"Then why don't you start acting like it?"

Harry walked straight past him. He didn't look back once as he made his way to class.

* * *

Tom bit his tongue as he followed. He knew Harry would not heed his warning, when did Harry ever listen.

The heavy book which Voldemort had instructed Tom study was tucked hidden in his robes. For the trouble it was worth, it was still easier that Harry didn't know. Only further unnecessary questions would arise and Harry would no doubt take the wrong meaning from it.

Tom had assumed that Harry without his dæmon would adapt, and this was certainly true at the start. Tom was still attached to Harry after all. But as Madam Pomfrey started easing Harry off numerous potions and the days started drawing out into weeks, Harry's incompleteness started to become apparent.

The weather had turned cold and the dark nights had started to draw in which had done little to settle Harry's imbalance. He would fall asleep away from Tom, only to wake. Screaming of guillotine's and grasping onto Tom as if he was the only thing to save him from the darkness.

Very few people had noticed, Harry's classmates and the professor's just assumed Harry was coping without his dæmon. But Tom knew, he could feel it ricocheting through him. Harry was breaking apart and Tom was failing to sustain him.

Hermione had fussed at first but now she had fallen quiet. Ramiron had become skittish around Harry, like he didn't know how to react.

Ron and Harry had also settled into an odd routine. Sometimes Harry would exchange the odd comment with him, but mostly Harry would draw further away, hiding up in the common room for hours at a time, point blank avoiding him. Sephronia had been clear in her dislike towards Tom, as had many of the other dæmons in the castle, but Harry was still fuming about the incident with Quirrell and as a result had taken an irrational response to Tom. Harry both craved and distanced himself from all contact. Harry had always been stubborn but Tom had long since tested his endurance. Of course, this was all due to the absence of Harry's dæmon. At least, that's what Tom tried to convince himself. Everything had spiraled out of control, way too quickly.

Even the first Quidditch match of the season didn't boost Harry's mood, despite having never seeing a game before. It had taken the combined effort of Hermione and Ramiron to convince Harry even to leave the castle, which only backfired when Gryffindor were crushed.

With Christmas approaching, Tom could only hope the quiet of the castle would give Harry the rest bite he needed. The only time Harry had come close to smiling was when the Weasley twins bewitched several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.

The morning Hermione was catching the train home wasn't any better. Harry was pale and quiet as he sat beside Tom in the Great Hall.

"You need to eat," Hermione said.

Harry continued to push his bacon around his plate.

"I'm not hungry," he mumbled.

Hermione looked pointedly towards Tom at this statement, but he only ignored her.

"Harry doesn't have to eat if he doesn't want to," Tom said. This earned Hermione a death stare from Harry.

"Look, I'm just saying," she huffed before turning on Tom. "Don't you care about Harry at all anymore?"

Tom itched to reach for Harry's wand.

"Weren't you leaving?" Tom said coolly.

Ramiron nor Hermione flinched.

"Well, considering the way you're treating him-"

"Bye, Hermione," Harry interrupted.

Hermione's mouth snapped shut and she looked between Harry and Tom. Ramiron shuffled between her feet.

"You'll have a good Christmas, right Harry?"

"Sure, Hermione," Harry said.

Hermione rocked back on forth on her heels as she bit her lip. Finally, she relented as she turned and made her way out of the Great Hall. Ramiron gave one last squeak before he bounded off after her. Harry returned to pushing his breakfast around before he flicked his eyes up briefly.

"What?"

Tom hesitated, their conversation left unspoken.

"Nothing."

* * *

Once the holidays started things did little to improve. Ron's parents had gone away for Christmas, so the Weasley's and Harry were one of the few Gryffindor's left in the castle.

Of course, Ron was still furious that Harry hadn't told him the truth about Tom, but it was the lack of Hermione which had bought them back to speaking to each other on a more civilised basis. Ron and Sephronia ignored Tom completely and Harry was either too exhausted or broken to care.

Christmas morning, Tom awoke, to a shrill screech and a ruffle of feathers. To the side he heard Ron grumble as he rolled over in his sleep.

Harry was already sitting up as if he'd long been awake. Their hangings were drawn open and Tom turned to see the source of the commotion. A smart looking owl was perched on their bed post, a letter tied to it's leg.

When Harry still didn't move, Tom lent forwards to prise the envelope away from the bird. It was addressed to Harry and had an official looking seal stamped on the opening.

"It's from the Ministry isn't it?" Harry asked.

Tom nodded and Harry finally moved to open it. Tom could feel Harry's rising trepidation as he read on silently.

When he was done, Harry handed it back.

_Dear Mr H Potter,_

_As you will be aware, an investigation has been conducted by the Ministry of Magic regarding the care at your relatives home. It is my duty to inform you that major concerns have been raised regarding your living conditions. As such Mr and Mrs Dursley's guardianship over you has been temporally revoked and your relatives have been placed under house arrest._

_Please note that Wizardings laws do not hold any jurisdiction over muggles and investigations may only be progressed further dependent on the severity of the crime._

_At present your guardian during the school term will be Professor Albus Dumbledore. Your guardian and thus your place of residence, during all other times of the year, has yet to be decided._

_Regards,_

_Madam Amelia Bones,_

_Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement_

Tom crumpled up the letter.

"Dumbledore is bad news," Tom said. "But technically it changes nothing. We'd be at school anyway."

Harry was silent for a moment.

"And the summer?"

"That depends on who they deem appropriate," Tom replied. "It is unlikely we will get a say in it."

"So, a foster home?" Harry said.

Tom shook his head.

"I'm more concerned that the Ministry will want a tight watch over me."

"But surely Quirrell can stop that?" Harry asked.

Tom was about to answer, but they were interrupted by Ron stirring and Sephronia barking excitedly.

"Look presents!"

Tom was surprised to see a small pile at the end of Harry's bed.

Harry who had never had any real presents before, barely even blinked. He remained sitting in the bed, as if Tom would still answer his question.

Tom however, slid onto the floor and handed Harry a package which turned out to be a small pipe. It looked like Hagrid had made it himself and he'd even included some owl treats for Hedwig.

The next present was from Hermione and contained a large box of chocolate frogs. Draco had gifted Harry a smart looking outdoor cloak, while Tom had received an expensive leather bound book on ancient wizarding families.

Nothing had come from the Dursley's, but Tom didn't expect otherwise.

Christmas day itself passed fairly quickly. After watching Harry ignore most of the huge piles of delicious food, Tom eventually dragged him back to the common room. The Weasley's had retreated outside. Celendia and Demetria, Fred and George's huskies had been bounding around the Great Hall all day as they waited impatiently to get out into the snow.

It was evening when Tom finally settled down to read the book Voldemort had given him. Tom had tucked it neatly inside the book Draco had given him so Harry wouldn't ask about it.

Ron had returned to strike up a game of chess with Harry. It was obvious Harry didn't have any interest in playing, but right now Tom had other issues to deal with. Voldemort's command had been mulling over in his head for a few weeks now and he had yet to act on it.

Tom turned back to the heavy leather bound book. Occulumency was way beyond the skill of a first year but Voldemort had assured Tom that he was more than capable of mastering it.

Tom flicked his eyes across to Harry who was attempting to muster morale in his chess pieces.

The concept was easy enough, detaching himself from Harry though was another matter entirely. Tom lent back and closed his eyes as he forced himself not to dwell on matters he could do nothing about.

Emptying his mind was certainly welcoming, although, it was neither peaceful nor relaxing. Only nothingness consumed Tom as if he'd done this a dozen times before.

It could only have been less than a heart beat when everything came crashing down.

Pain rippled into Tom which jerked him back into thought. His mind snapped open and he was bombarded by a searing sensation in his hand.

Tom stared down numbly. The flesh of his fingers had been torn open, blood seeped from a fierce wound. Sephronia had her teeth buried deep, but it wasn't the sharp pain, nor her faint snarl as she dislodged herself from his fingers, which tore Tom back into reality. Cold, consuming despair rippled through Tom.

Tom spun around in his chair as he searched with a desperate hunger to connect.

"Harry?"

The chess pieces were strewn aside and the table knocked to the floor.

Harry had fallen. Ron was beside Harry as he tried to hold him still. Fred and George watched on in horror.

Harry was shaking violently and Ron withdrew on Tom's approach. Tom didn't hesitate as he fell to the floor. He wrapped Harry tightly in his arms.

Sephronia who had blood stains over her face whimpered and retreated into Ron's. Celandia and Demetria were hanging by Fred and George's side, silent for the first time this evening.

The dreaded feeling was dissipating slowly from Tom, ebbing away before the nothingness could consume him. Harry didn't speak, nor did he acknowledge Tom. Harry's shaking was subsiding and his eyes were wide in pure terror.

"Harry?" Tom tested.

Harry didn't respond, he was ice cold. It was only when Tom shook him gently did Harry begin to come to his senses.

The accusation from Harry disturbed Tom far more than he would ever admit.

"What did you do?" Harry gasped as tears welled in his eyes.

Tom opened his mouth but no words came out. He didn't understand what had happened. Harry had fallen for no reason.

"I-" Tom began.

Harry's expression steeled over as his gaze became horribly unfocused.

"I didn't do anything-" Tom tried again before his voice fell short as he realised. Occulumency.

Harry's eyes snapped to his own.

"Yes, well no. I didn't mean too!" Tom began exasperated. "Not here," he glanced at Ron, Fred and George and their dæmons who were still listening.

Harry remained still, his eyes were already unforgiving.

"I thought it might help," Tom lied. "It's this technique, it's meant to block your mind."

"Oh, how considerate," Harry spat. Harry shoved Tom away from him and stumbled to his feet.

Tom grabbed Harry's arm to yanking him back, so that only Harry could hear.

"If I can block Voldemort out of your head then you wouldn't hurt when you're near Quirrell any more."

Harry however, wasn't having it. He took another step back.

"Harry, you're being unreasonable-"

Tom had never known Harry to look at him with such contempt.

"Don't you dare."

Harry raised his hand as he didn't meet Tom's gaze.

Tom's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't even noticed their brief detachment and Harry knew it. Harry had been shut off completely from both his dæmon and Tom, just like what the silver guillotine had always intended to do.

The silence was all Harry needed, before he turned and broke out into a run.

Tom ignored the Weasley's prying eyes as he tore after Harry and out of the common room.

* * *

Tom could barely keep up, several times he'd taken a corner just by instinct. Only the lack of pull on their souls told him that he'd made the right decision. Not that it would matter anyway, Harry wouldn't get far if Tom stopped.

Fortunately, the castle was deadly quiet. It was way past curfew and the professor's would still be celebrating Christmas with one another.

Tom could tell Harry was getting closer and his own pace slowed before he came to a halt in front of a slightly open classroom door. Very careful not to make any noise, Tom slipped inside and looked up, captivated by the huge object which towered over the room.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate frame which stood on two clawed feet. Harry stood dwarfed beneath it, his hand pressed against its glass.

"Harry-"

Tom's voice caught in his throat as he was caught off guard by the sheer warmth coursing into him.

Harry was glowing, his green eyes alight as Tom remained firmly routed to the spot.

"I see her," Harry whispered, a genuine smile busting onto his face for the first time in an age.

Tom stepped forwards, legs shaking, feet barely cooperating.

"Do you see her?" Harry grinned and he grabbed Tom's hand as he got closer.

Tom staggered at the intensity of their connection. Harry positioned Tom firmly in front of the mirror so that he could lean over Tom's shoulder.

Tom stared at his reflection while his heart pounded abnormally fast.

It was impossible.

Tom was unaware of his own hand moving upwards. His own fingers now pressed against the cold surface to meet the reflection trapped on the other side.

Tom blinked back the tears that threatened his composure. No, he couldn't have that. Not yet. It took every ounce of restraint he had to pull his gaze away. Instead he turned his attention to the frame and its beautiful carvings.

"It's nothing but a trick," Tom said.

Harry's face fell before contorting into anger. He shoved Tom out the way.

"She's not a trick, she's my dæmon."

Tom could feel Harry's fury brimming and it was mixed in with something much more sinister, underlying. Always there, never leaving.

"I don't see her, Harry," Tom said softly.

"But she's there," Harry gestured wildly. "She's right there."

Tom didn't look back to the mirror, instead he nodded upwards.

"I don't think we see the same thing," he said.

Harry glanced upwards.

"It's written backwards," Tom offered, and at Harry's funny look he sighed. "It says, I show not your face but your hearts desire."

A frown now creased onto Harry's forehead.

"Right, so it shows me my dæmon-?"

"Because you feel incomplete," Tom nodded. "You crave her more than anything, you are missing a part of your soul after all."

Harry's hand pressed back against the glass.

"I-I feel whole again, Tom."

Tom smiled sadly.

"I know, I can tell."

Harry turned to the mirror fully now.

"I-I just can't believe she's here, that's she's real."

"She's not real, Harry." Tom said.

Harry's expression soured.

"I can feel her!" he snapped.

Tom paused ever so slightly

"No, the absence you have is temporally filled, but it's not right. It's unnatural."

"You're wrong."

"Do you think she can feel you?" Tom said. "Do you think she knows you are together."

Harry's hands almost flew to his ears.

"Stop it."

"She's nothing but a mirage."

"Please, stop it."

At Harry's distraught look, Tom sighed.

"What is she?"

Harry blinked, he was totally thrown by this question.

"What animal is she?" Tom tried again.

Harry frowned. He suddenly looked uncertain as he stared back at his reflection.

"I don't know exactly-"

"Am I there?" Tom asked.

Harry turned to him as his own expression darkened. It looked like he wanted to lie, but Harry knew him better then to try.

"Of course you are."

Tom only nodded.

"Come on then," he made to grab Harry's hand and tug him gently away.

"What are you doing?" Harry snapped as he yanked his out of Tom's grip.

"The Library. Don't you want to know what animal she is?"

Harry looked hesitant before he finally relented. Although, not before he glanced back at the mirror once more.

* * *

The Library was eerily quiet. The hundreds of books towered over them, casting even darker shadows through the darkness. The candle that Tom had lit hovered in front of them, lighting up the spines as Tom scanned their titles.

It wasn't long before Tom found what he was looking for. He pulled it off the shelf and knelt down to open it on the floor.

"Well, what does she look like?"

Harry crouched down beside him.

"Like Adara, I guess."

Tom flipped a page.

"This one?"

Harry looked at it and shook his head.

"What's that?"

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes.

"A weasel, Harry."

Harry huffed.

"Well she's not that. She's bigger than that."

"Good," Tom concluded. "Weasley wouldn't let you hear the end of it."

Harry chose to ignore this comment as Tom stopped on another page.

"A stoat?"

Harry shook his head again as his face betrayed his disappointment.

"Well, you haven't given me much to go on, how about this?"

"No," Harry said dejectedly.

The flickering candle however caught on the next page and Tom knew instantly that they had found her. Harry sucked in a breath as his shaking fingers pulled the book towards himself.

"A pine marten, huh?" Tom mused as he read the text over Harry's shoulder. "I wouldn't have guessed that, are you sure?"

Harry nodded numbly as his fingers traced the picture automatically.

"My dæmon's a pine marten," Harry breathed.

"Pine marten's must be stubborn creatures then," Tom said. But Harry had already stood and was making his way back over to the door.

Tom jumped to his feet.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to the mirror," Harry said.

"No, you're not."

Harry glared at him.

"I want to see her and you can't stop me," Harry snapped.

"You know what animal she is, surely that's enough?" Tom asked.

Harry glared at him.

"You know it's not."

Yet again, Tom was on the receiving end of Harry's retreating back.

"No, it's not," Tom whispered.

* * *

Harry was desperate to see his dæmon again. He'd already slipped out of bed before Ron and Sephronia had stirred the next morning and would also have skipped breakfast if Tom hadn't insisted.

Now Tom was wandering around the corridors following Harry as he searched from classroom to classroom.

"Maybe it's somewhere you can only find at night?" Tom offered.

"I know it's here somewhere," Harry said.

After several hours, Tom was losing patience.

"Come on," he said, and he dragged a disheartened Harry back to the common room.

Straight after dinner, Harry was straight back to pacing the corridors again.

"I know it's here. We're close. I can feel her!"

"It's not her," Tom replied. "I already told you this."

Harry ignored him, before he jerked his hand up suddenly.

"I recognise that piece of armour."

Tom didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed that Harry's persistence paid off. Sure enough, the classroom was just around the corner.

Harry was straight in front of the mirror as he rested his palms against it. Instant relief shared between them both.

Tom stepped closer and pulled Harry's wand from his pocket.

"Accio book," Tom said.

"That's not a first year spell," Harry said as a charms book came flying in through the door.

"No," Tom shrugged. "But the Ministry aren't going to care if I summon a book."

Harry chewed his lip.

"They're just looking for an excuse and you're giving them every reason to lock us up."

"Look, Harry. For all they know, you're really good at magic."

At Harry's continued look, Tom sighed.

"I'm assuming you want to be here most the night," Tom held up the book. "In which case I'm going to need something to keep me vaguely entertained."

Harry huffed before he finally gave in. He'd waited all day, he wasn't going to wait any longer.

It was quiet and oddly peaceful. Tom could feel Harry's relaxed hum as he sat on the floor, watching the mirror as Tom read his book.

It wasn't right, but how could Tom deny him. It was if the trial had never happened, and to have Harry happy again so soon was not something he'd anticipated.

"She needs a name."

Tom looked up distracted, only to find that Harry's gaze hadn't left his reflection.

"She has a name," Tom said.

Harry leaned forwards, his chin moving to rest on his knee as a frown creased his forehead.

"I don't know it though."

"It bothers you doesn't it?" Tom asked after awhile.

Sure enough, Harry shifted but he didn't say anything else.

Tom put his book down and moved off the desk to walk across the classroom. Tom crossed his legs and sat down beside Harry, careful not to glance the mirrors reflection directly.

"What's she doing now?" Tom asked.

"Sitting on my lap," Harry said. His own hand looked itching to stroke her.

"And what am I doing?"

"At the moment?" Harry said. "Mirroring you."

Tom froze, his stomach twisting in an uncomfortable knot as he nearly turned his head. Instead his intended words fell short.

"Lyra?" Tom said.

Harry turned towards him and blinked.

Tom smiled and shrugged. "It suits her, don't you think? For now at least."

"Lyra," Harry whispered. Before he looked back into the mirror for approval. This time, Harry's grin matched Tom's own. "She likes it."

Tom rolled his eyes. 

"That's because you like it."

* * *

By the third night, Harry and Tom were back again. Harry had insisted on staying for longer which Tom had failed to talk him out of. It didn't deter Harry from smuggling down in front of the mirror on a couple of pillows.

Tom was sitting in his usual spot on one of the desks.

It was after half an hour when Tom knew he was being watched.

"What?" he asked as he flicked the page of his book.

Silence.

"Harry?" Tom pressed.

Again there was a pause. Tom looked up. Harry was staring openly at him now, his gaze torn away from the mirror only briefly.

"Why do you refuse to look in the mirror?"

Tom sighed. It would do no good to lie, not when he had Harry's undivided attention.

"I can't let it distract me," Tom said.

"From what?"

Tom smiled sadly at this.

"From actually achieving it."

Harry automatically stared back at the mirror as his own frown deepened. Tom continued, it needed to be said.

"Your real dæmon is out there, Harry. And you would rather spent your time sitting here, dwelling on nothing but a fantasy. She won't sustain you forever."

"I'm not-"

Tom's expression sharpened.

"If you forget her, if you don't look for her, do you think she'll forgive you?"

Harry's face twisted into fury as he jumped back from the mirror and onto his feet.

"I'm not the one who ran away!"

"To save me," Tom countered. "You however, said you didn't want her. I mean how would you feel if I told you I didn't want you anymore?"

The hurt pulsing into Harry was more than enough for Tom to understand.

"I'm not-" Harry started. "I-I haven't forgotten her."

Tom could easily have reached out to comfort Harry, but he stayed deadly still, watching intently at Harry twisted back to the mirror.

For the first time in a while, Tom couldn't tell if the guilt which was shared between them was from himself or from Harry.

* * *

"You can't keep going back, Harry," Tom said. "It's not healthy."

Harry stabbed his knife into his chicken as he ignored him.

"You'll waste away," Tom continued. "Just forget about the mirror."

"Shut up," Harry hissed. "Just because you won't look, even though I know you want to."

"Yes, I want to," Tom agreed. "But I'm not stupid enough to get so hung up on something that isn't real."

"Don't you dare," Harry hissed, "You just don't want me to have her, you can't take it that I don't need you anymore."

Now it was Tom who clenched his fists. A glass on the table shattered.

Ron who was sitting further down the table with his brother's looked up and Sephronia growled in their direction.

Harry had clearly noticed this was a step to far as he stumbled, his own hand tentatively close to Tom's.

"I-I didn't mean it," Harry stumbled.

Tom didn't even look at him.

"W-we should get back to the common room," Harry continued.

Tom grabbed Harry's wrist which stopped him from moving.

"You're not going back to that mirror again, Harry."

The panic which coursed into Tom was totally overwhelming and Harry stared at him in sheer terror.

"Please, Tom. Just one more time."

Tom wished he could say no, but Harry's desperation was soul crushing and it clouded his own judgement.

"One more time," Harry pleaded. "Just one. I won't go back again."

Tom nodded and Harry's face lit up into a smile.

He really shouldn't encourage this. It would only mean Harry would have further to fall back into his despair.

* * *

Harry didn't rush this time. They walked silently through the school. It didn't take long to find the classroom and the mirror as the long twisting corridors of Hogwarts were now familiar in the dark.

Tom was sick with rising trepidation. His footsteps echoed down the corridors as he followed an eager Harry through the castle.

Just one more time wouldn't hurt. Harry would need his strength back if they were really going to find Lyra.

Tom watched as Harry shot a beaming smile back at him. Of course, with learning Occulumency, Tom had as an extension of this been tempted to learn Legilimency. Just to see, to watch Lyra from Harry's mind.

They were nearing the mirror and Harry's foot falls sped up as he pushed the door wide open.

However, what happened next, Tom did not anticipate.

Harry's hollowness coursed into Tom.

"Where is it?" Harry scrambled around wildly. "Where is she?"

Sure enough, the mirror was gone.

"I-" Tom stammered.

"She can't be gone," Harry screamed. His hands ripped into his hair as he turned to Tom. "Bring her back!"

"I-I can't-" Tom tried, but Harry was shaking now, tears brimming in his eyes as he paced up and down, eyes scanning the room as if she's suddenly return.

"Please," Harry begged. He pulled out his wand and shoved it into Tom's hands. "You must know how, you need to bring her back."

"Harry, you know I can't-" Tom said and he pushed Harry's wand back to him.

Harry's expression soured, his eyes narrowing.

"You can, you just don't want to," he hissed.

Tom pushed Harry against the wall.

"Stop it, getting mad at me won't bring her back."

But Harry was distraught, twisting away in panic.

"Harry, you need to calm down."

Footsteps sounded down the corridor and Tom knew that it wasn't just any teacher heading their way.

Harry finally flinched, his hand flying to his scar as he bit his lip hard. Harry's fear was mixing with Tom's own being as Quirrell approached. Tom dare not raise his Occulumency shields for fear of cutting off Harry.

"Shh, please, Harry."

The door creaked open and a narrow beam of light shifted across their faces. Tom moved to cover Harry but this time it was he who was the target.

Tom staggered as his mind was torn open from Quirrell's wand. Everything came thick and fast, his memories being ripped into as the mirror flickered into being with Harry standing before it.

Tom's vision shifted back into the room as almost as quickly as it had come. Harry had collapsed to the floor and Quirrell was smiling.

"Interesting," Quirrell said as he placed his wand back into his robes.

Tom fell to Harry's side.

Quirrell stepped closer and with a flick of his wand locked the door behind him.

"Do you wish to see your dæmon again, Potter?" Quirrell asked.

Harry's face was clouded in darkness, his eyes narrowed as he glared back at Quirrell. Tom wished Harry would say no, but he knew he wouldn't. Not now.

Quirrell's smile widened as Harry nodded, and Tom felt a chill run down his spine.

"Then I have a task for you."

Tom dipped his head, glancing at Harry as he did so. Everything was getting too complicated, too confusing. The conflicting emotions from both Harry and Voldemort were pulsing through his very being. Tom had never felt so incomplete, torn between two souls as he remained a mere fragment.

"And in return you'll find the mirror for Harry?" Tom said coldly.

Quirrell looked amused.

"You disapprove?"

Harry's head jerked to Tom at this statement. Eyes piercing into him as his resentment simmered.

Tom refused to look at Harry and instead he closed his eyes. The reflection of the mirror was so vivid, but never had it been so further from what he wanted.

He exhaled before he opened his eyes and composed himself. Tom had made his choice, the mirror only confirmed it. He would no longer float in the depths between Harry and Voldemort's souls. It would all be over soon.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Quirrell had convinced Harry that he wouldn't be able to locate the mirror immeadiately. So for the rest of the Christmas holidays Harry tried his best to remember every detail about Lyra. He'd tried drawing her so he could show Tom but he hadn't done a very good job.

Hermione, who came back to school the day before term started was exasperated when Ron and Harry still weren't on proper speaking terms.

"Do you have to be so stubborn?" she demanded at dinner.

When no one offered her a reply she scowled before she noticed the mark on Tom's hand. She looked at it with a frown before Ramiron's eyes deliberately drifted to Sephronia.

"And you've been fighting!"

"We haven't," Ron grumbled.

Harry had been so distracted with the mirror and Lyra he'd forgotten that Sephronia had attacked Tom.

"Just don't bite so hard next time," Tom said coldly.

Ron however only bopped Sephronia proudly on the head.

"Serves him right anyway," Harry said.

"Harry-" Hermione started as Ron beamed at Harry.

Tom however looked distinctly unimpressed. Hermione chewed her lip before she finally scooped up Ramiron.

"You look better, by the way," she added, glancing suspiciously at Tom. "Are you sure you're coping okay? I did a lot of reading in the holidays and well everything says you should be deteriorating rapidly without your dæmon. I mean, I know you have Tom, but still-"

Harry only shrugged and helped himself to more potato's. It was true though, Harry certainly felt better. Initially after the mirror had vanished Harry had been nothing but distraught. But now, even his nightmares of the guillotine had grown fainter. It was almost like seeing Lyra had grounded him somehow.

And with classes starting again, Harry had plenty of other things to keep himself busy. Now they had covered the basics, lessons had stepped up considerably and they were diving into the more complicated techniques of magic.

The Quidditch season was also well underway, although Gryffindor's luck didn't seem to improve. Hufflepuff stormed to victory which all but assured Slytherin would take the house and quidditch cup for the year. Although, worse than Gryffindor's defeat were the potions classes which followed. Snape of course took great pride in gloating about Slytherin's lead and continued to take every opportunity to deduct house points from Gyffindor.

Today, wasn't any better. Harry was meant to be concentrating on brewing his awakening potion but it had already gone a funny gloppy texture.

"I said stir it counter clockwise," Tom said.

Harry immediately went to correct it but the damage had already been done. The liquid turned a distinct orange mess instead of the red it had been moments before. Tom sighed and pushed some dried leaves towards him.

"It should salvage some of it."

Beside them, Neville wasn't having much luck. Cyrilla, who was currently a rabbit, had backed as far away from Neville's potion as possible. Harry suddenly remembered that he still had to ask Neville about his own dæmon. Glancing around, he made sure Snape and Laraine weren't looking as he edged up to Neville.

"How did you lose Cyrilla?"

Tom who was about to drag Harry back to his own work suddenly became completely engaged.

Neville jumped, and the newt eye he'd been tentatively trying to cut slipped onto the floor.

"I never said I lost her-" Neville started, but his eyes distinctly didn't meet Harry's own. Instead his gaze slipped to Cyrilla.

Cyrilla didn't seem to notice, instead she continued to eye Neville's potion which had now turned black.

"But she left, didn't she?" Harry asked.

Neville bit his lip.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I found her again."

Harry's stomach twisted.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Neville shuffled on his feet while Cyrilla showed no signs of distress. Instead she looked almost disinterested from the conversation as she batted one of her large rabbit feet against her floppy ear.

"Dæmons that don't want to be found, typically stay hidden, Harry."

"But it's horrible," Harry said. Would he feel like this forever, incomplete and hollow. "Why would she stay away?"

"You have to remember your dæmon is suffering the same as you," Neville answered.

Cyrilla nose twitched once and in one small hop she turned her back to Neville. Never before had Harry seen someone look so hurt. Neville expression broke as his voice fell to a whisper.

"There's nothing you can do, Harry. And when your dæmon does return she won't be the same."

Neville could have said anything and it would have been better then that. Harry automatically grabbed for Tom as his knees threatened to give way.

Tom shifted closer in response as he squeezed Harry's shoulder.

"I don't want her to change," Harry said.

Neville almost knocked over his potion ingredients again as Harry realised his mistake. Neville glanced towards Snape who was still preoccupied with the Slytherin's.

"Y-you've seen her?"

When Harry shook his head, Neville's face only broke out into a grin as he failed to notice Harry's distress. This also seemed to gain the attention of Cyrilla who jumped around as if nothing has happened.

"What animal is she?" she squeaked. "A bird?" she suddenly switched to a small owl, before instantly changing into a lizard. "No, wait. She can't fly. How about a tiger?" In an instant she was a tiger. "Or a squirrel?" In a blink of an eye a small red squirrel sat on the table.

"I-"

"Does it matter what she is?" Tom snapped.

Cyrilla immediately flicked into a small dormouse and scurried up Neville's arm. Neville who had been so shaken looked a lot happier now his dæmon was close.

Harry's thought however, were racing as Neville's words echoed in his head. Lyra would be like Cyrilla. Constantly flicking between animal forms. The thought alone turned Harry's stomach. She was meant to be like him, be his, unchanging. She was already perfect, he didn't want her to be any different.

"What animal was Cyrilla before she left?" Harry asked.

Neville's smile faltered.

"I don't know, she won't tell me-"

"Surely you know?" Tom asked.

Neville shrugged, eyes flicking down.

"She left before I could see her. Same as Harry, I guess. Although, I don't know how you found out what animal your dæmon is."

And then Harry realised the full implications of what Neville had been through. At least Harry had Tom, but Neville would have been truly alone. Harry didn't want to know. Instead he pulled himself steady, gripping Tom even tighter by the hand.

"How long was Cyrilla gone for?"

This time Neville face went distinctly blank.

"Tell him."

Harry jumped at Tom's sudden sharpness. Neville shook his head, eyes almost pleading with Tom to let him hold his silence.

"He needs to know," Tom said.

Neville dipped his head down and Cyrilla did not pop out of his pocket again.

"A few years."

Harry stared. He must have misheard. There was no possible way that was true.

"You're lying."

"Harry, I'm sorry-"

"It can't be years," Harry snapped, jerking away from Tom to grab Neville by the shoulders. "It can't, dæmon's aren't meant to be separated. It's not normal."

He felt sick, trapped. Was there really no way out from this hell.

"Potter!" Harry jumped away from Neville as his hands fell to his side. Neville didn't move, his eyes full of pity, as Snape stormed up to their potions.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I-Nothing, sir."

"Ten points from Gryffindor and get back to your own potion," Snape said.

Harry turned sullenly back to his own potion which was now a horrible brown sludge.

* * *

Harry trailed out of dungeons with an aching hollowness. Tom had told Ron and Hermione to go ahead, so it was no surprise when Tom dragged Harry away from the grand staircase and down the front steps of the castle.

The dungeons were always cold, so it was refreshing to be outside and away from the stale air. Particularly after how claustrophobic it had started to feel. Harry let himself be led numbly until they were out of earshot and obscured behind a rose bush.

"You knew Lyra wasn't coming back anytime soon?" Harry asked while Tom pressed his hand against his brow.

"I didn't," Tom said straight away. His eyes flicked up as his brow creased. "But it was obvious Neville was hiding something. Cyrilla acts oddly around you."

Harry hadn't noticed.

"Dæmons interact with each other. Like Ramiron for example, he'll look to Sephronia and vice versa. Cyrilla does too, except with you," Tom said.

"Cyrilla interacts with you too," Harry corrected him.

Tom smiled.

"She does when she thinks you're looking, and certainly before Lyra left this was true. But now her gaze is almost entirely focused on you. I thought it was normal at first but none of the other dæmons do it. They are still centered on me."

"Oh-"

"But that's not the point," Tom waved his hand "I need you to do something."

Harry didn't even hesitate.

"No."

Tom frowned.

"I haven't even told you what it is yet."

"That's because it's not you asking. It's Voldemort."

It had happened two or three times now and Harry hated it every time. Voldemort and Tom had been communicating by using parseltongue. It didn't matter that the whole defence class was present, Quirrell could place some sort of privacy wards up which meant no one but Harry could hear the chilling noises. It also didn't help that Tom never told Harry what they were discussing.

Tom shrugged, eyes never leaving Harry's own.

"Same thing."

Harry crossed his arms.

"It's not. What does he want, anyway? Can't Voldemort do it himself?"

Tom paused while he surveyed Harry with a look he couldn't quite place.

"I-" Tom emphasised. "I want you to write a letter."

Whatever retort Harry had ready fell short, that wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"To who?"

Tom didn't smile as he lent back against the castle wall.

"Dumbledore."

Harry blinked. Dumbledore was the last person he wanted to contact. When he remained tight lipped, Tom only sighed.

"It's about your guardianship during the summer," Tom said. "I want you to ask Dumbledore if you can stay with friends."

Harry swallowed.

"Dumbledore won't agree to that."

"No one has been assigned to look after you while you're not at school and if you don't act now, chances are the Ministry will leave you in Dumbledore's care."

Although the prospect of Dumbledore was frightening, Harry wouldn't help but feel like this would still be an okay option. Tom and Harry have the whole castle to himself without the hundreds of peering eyes staring at them both.

"Why does Voldemort care who looks after us anyway?"

"This has nothing to do with Voldemort," Tom replied.

"Don't lie to me," Harry snapped.

He almost wanted Tom to deny it, to embrace him and tell him he was just being silly. Instead, Harry was left sour mouthed and heart twisting as Tom shrugged.

"Fine. Some degree of flexibility is needed and if we're under Dumbledore's nose, then it's just going to cause complications."

Harry wanted to be mad, he wanted to turn away and ignore Tom completely, but he just couldn't. Neville's words were still ringing in his head. Lyra might take years to come back and he didn't want to push Tom away. He'd already done enough damage.

"Won't Quirrell be here anyway?"

Tom shook his head.

"Voldemort isn't planning on staying at the school any longer then he needs to."

If anything, this was a bigger reason to stay at Hogwarts.

"Please, Harry. I'll owe you."

Harry froze. Tom and Harry were even with favours and Harry was always left owing Tom. It was very rare that Harry was one up on Tom which meant that this was something Tom desperately wanted to do.

"Fine," Harry relented. To be fair, it wasn't a bad thing. He would be able to stay with Ron or Hermione. Even staying with Draco would be better than the Dursley's.

* * *

The owlery was swarmed with birds and Harry wrinkled his nose at the stench which greeted them. Hedwig spotted them at once and swooped down gracefully to land on the large pedestal which sat in the middle of the tower. She hooted happily as Harry pulled a bag of owl treats, a quill and parchment from his school bag.

"What do you want me to put?" Harry said.

"Let me," Tom offered.

Harry handed his quill over as Tom who began to write. Hedwig took his as her cue to nip Harry's hand affectionately as he passed her a treat.

It didn't take Tom long to scrawl down some words.

"Do you want to read it?" he asked.

Harry shook his head.

"I'll take your word for it."

Hedwig waited patiently as Tom attached the letter to her leg. As soon as it was secure she hooted happily, before taking off out the owlery window.

"Come on," Tom moved forwards suddenly to take Harry's hand in his own.

Harry felt a rush of warmth at the contact but there was something which made him grab Tom's shirt with his other hand, halting him from moving.

"Tom-" Harry said. "What's wrong?"

Tom tilted his head as Harry felt a pulse of shared anxiety.

"Nothings wrong."

It was a lie. But it was Tom's rushing heartbeat and the fear which stayed Harry's anger.

"Tom," Harry prompted before a sudden horror consumed him. "What did you write?"

Tom turned back to look out the Owlery window. There was something off that Harry couldn't quite place but it was gone in a moment.

Tom turned to Harry as his own brow creased.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Tom asked. Tom placed a chilling hand on Harry's forehead. "You're not feeling ill or anything?"

Harry let go of Tom slowly as he took a tentative step back. He had been so confident but now the doubt was creeping in.

"Yeah," Harry said, voice barely a whisper. "I think so."

Tom pulled him back again.

"Are you sure? What did you feel?"

Harry dipped his head.

"Nothing, I guess I'm still shook up from earlier."

Tom smiled sadly.

"I guess you are."

* * *

For the next few weeks everything was normal enough. Tom hadn't been speaking to Voldemort as much and even the ministry had been strangely quiet. Harry had also regained most of his strength and Madam Pomfrey hadn't been shoving nearly as many potions down his throat.

Of course, Harry should have known the calm was too good to last and sure enough it was the last defence class before the Easter holidays when everything went horribly wrong. Harry had just been starting to get excited that he could avoid Quirrell and not have his scar burning for a whole week when Quirrell stepped up to his desk and his scar twinged.

"P-Potter, your h-homework?"

"Umm, I have it here somewhere, Sir."

Harry rummaged through his bag, confused why it hadn't been retrieved with the rest of the class.

"Don't lie, Harry," Tom scolded.

Harry spun around fat to stare at Tom. He'd done it last night, all two feet of parchment worth. Tom had written at least half of it himself.

"D-detention, P-Potter. M-my office eight o'clock."

Harry couldn't believe it. He shoved his books into his bag, glaring at Tom and his all to innocent smile.

"You should have said," Hermione frowned. "I could have helped."

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth.

Harry didn't bother asking where his homework had gone, instead he stormed out the classroom. If Tom wanted to speak to Voldemort outside of class, he could have just asked.

* * *

Eight o'clock came around far too quickly and Harry found himself trudging up to Quirrell's office. Tom has assured him he had no idea what it was about but Harry didn't believe him.

Quirrell was already waiting for them and he wasted no time as he tapped his wand on the desk.

"Sit," Quirrell said.

Harry glared at Quirrell as he scrapped the chair across the stone floor. Quirrell only waved his wand as he summoned a piece of parchment and a quill.

"You will complete your assignment as per instructed in class."

"You're actually making me do detention?" Harry said.

"It is too early and I have no desire to entertain a child," Quirrell said. He tapped his wand again on Harry's desk. "Now write, otherwise I am quite content at removing fifty points from Gryffindor."

Harry snatched up the quill as he tried to ignore the painful stab in his forehead.

"Early for what?" Harry said.

Quirrell didn't see the need to offer him with an answer as he strode behind his own desk. Harry looked to Tom, but Tom only shrugged as he took a seat next to Harry. Frustrated, Harry turned back to the parchment. He wanted nothing more then to knock the ink onto the floor but 50 points from Gryffindor was a sickening thought. Gryffindor were all ready trailing behind and Harry didn't think he could face Draco's smug face if he found out Harry had lost even more.

It took Harry a couple of hours to finish his essay which didn't help when Tom remained tight lipped the entire time. Harry ignored Tom as he moved up to Quirrell's desk to present his work.

"Done. Now are you going to tell me why we're here?"

Harry rubbed his scar as he waited, but Quirrell just ignored him.

"Take Potter's wand," Quirrell said.

Tom dipped his hand into Harry's pocket.

"But if the Ministry know Tom has been using my wand-" Harry started.

"That is not a concern, now put that cloak on," Quirrell instructed.

He gestured to a long black outdoor cloak which hung in the corner. When Harry didn't move, Tom collected it with a single flick of their wand. Harry was beginning to like this less and less.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked.

Quirrell swung his own long robe around his shoulders.

"The forbidden forest."

Tom swung the cloak around Harry's neck and drew the hood up so his head was covered. Tom lent in so their foreheads pressed together which made Harry's scar feel numb.

"Trust me," Tom whispered.

Bile rose in Harry's throat as he gripped Tom's wrist. He didn't want to deal with this now. He just wanted to get as far away from Voldemort as possible.

"Fine," Harry bit out. The sooner they got this over with the better. At least Voldemort wasn't hissing from underneath Quirrell's turban.

Tom pulled back and slotted his own hand tightly into Harry's. Quirrell turned his wand on himself. It was odd. Whatever charm he used seemed to trickle from his wand, distorting Harry's view as Quirrell disappeared.

"Doesn't Tom need hiding?" Harry asked.

Tom however shook his head.

"The important thing is that we're not associated with Quirrell. If you're seen wandering the corridor alone then we can't implicate him."

"Stay close," an invisible Quirrell said as he opened his office door.

"I'll guide you," Tom said. He pulled Harry forwards with a gentle tug.

The castle was eerily quiet. Harry could hear his every footstep echo throughout the castle as they made it out onto the grounds and up to the edge of the forest.

Quirrell dropped his illusion the moment they stepped into the trees. Harry couldn't help but feel dejected as Tom dropped his own hand from his grip.

Quirrell set off and Harry was stunned for a moment. Quirrell didn't even look like his feet were touching the ground, instead he sort of glided as his robes trailed along the ground. It was unnatural, but Tom followed with little hesitation. Harry walked behind as he tried ignore his scar.

As they pressed deeper the trees grew thicker and towered overhead. What stars they had seen previously had long disappeared above the canopy. Every now and then Quirrell would stop and mutter an incantation under his breath which did little to settle Harry's growing unease.

Harry was starting to see his breath swirl around in front of him and he drew the cloak tighter around his shoulders. It didn't seem to be that effective as the cold only persisted. Tom didn't seem as bothered as he hung close to Quirrell. Tom always seemed to thrive when he was close to Voldemort and Harry couldn't help but ache for Lyra.

It was horrible, knowing that Tom's connection to Voldemort must be so similar to Harry and Lyra. Tom and Voldemort were meant to be together, and Harry must have felt so empty comparison. Harry trailed behind the two of them, as he swallowed the uncomfortable lump in his throat.

Would Harry ever be enough for Tom. If Lyra took years to return then Harry would remain broken, incomplete. Tom might not even want to stay.

"Be still," Quirrell instructed suddenly. His wand cut across their path.

Tom shot Harry a small encouraging smile. Harry could hear the slight patter of something. And it was coming in their direction.

The dim light from Quirrell's wand dissipated into nothing as they were plunged into darkness.

The patter was becoming louder, more rhythmic now. It sounded like a horse galloping fast towards them. The trees were so tightly packed together, Harry couldn't understand how something was travelling this fast towards them.

Suddenly, something pure white flashed through the foliage. And with it a light seemed to radiate from the creature, outlining its shape in the dark. It was definitely some sort of horse but Harry didn't have time to contemplate why something so majestic was in the forbidden forest of all places.

Quirrell wand cut down with deadly accuracy. Ropes burst out, spinning through the air to twist around the creature.

Harry barely had time to draw breath as the creature collapsed to the ground with a heavy thud. It took a moment for Harry's eyes to adjust to what he was actually seeing.

"A unicorn," Tom whispered as he lowered his own wand in amazement.

Sure enough a unicorn was thrashing around in its bonds distressed. It kicked up dirt as its white mane matted into the ground. Quirrell's curse clearly wasn't normal as the bonds sunk deep into the unicorn's flesh as it restricted all movement.

And then Quirrell was kneeling down, a knife suddenly in his hand.

Harry reacted on instinct as he darted forwards. Tom moved so fast as he grabbed Harry around his waist. Harry opened his mouth to protest but it didn't matter. The knife plunged in. The unicorn was screaming, writhing underneaths Quirrell as he dug the weapon in deep. To destroy something so pure was just barbaric and utterly incomprehensible. Harry was left staring, aware of nothing else but this unicorn's plight.

Quirrell was ruthless as he jerked the knife out causing silver blood to spray across his robes. The darkness of the forest was consuming as it devoured what little light remained from the creature.

"Do something," Harry whispered. But Tom didn't move. He only watched on silently with no expression and Harry knew the distress flooding through him was his own.

They didn't have to wait long, as finally, the torment was over. The unicorn fell still.

Harry didn't even notice the tears falling down his face. There was nothing he could do as Tom's grip remained iron clad. Not that it would have mattered, the shock alone kept Harry frozen.

But the horror wasn't over yet.

Quirrell leaned over and pulled the flesh apart with his fingers so the blood seeped out. Harry couldn't look away. He was captivated by the horrendous scene. Silver blood splatted over Quirrell's robes as he pressed his mouth close.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry staggered as his soul burned.

It was wrong. Never before had Harry felt so tainted. So brutally terrified. Every single one of Quirrell's gulps pulsed through Tom, straight into Harry's own soul. Bile rose in Harry's throat, but Tom was fast, hand enclosing over Harry's mouth as he screamed.

It was like his very soul was being distorted, twisting as energy flooded through him. But at the same time it was draining, like Harry's body would turn to dust and disintegrate in a instant.

If anything, Tom was more affected. Harry could feel Tom's breath on the back of his neck, quick and short as Tom's grip started to loosen. It felt like an age but Quirrell finally pulled away. His teeth were stained as blood dripped from his mouth.

And then the reason why Quirrell had asked Harry and Tom to come with him into the forest became so horrifically apparent. Quirrell waved his wand and a single goblet appearing in his hand. He lowered it down so the silver blood spilled forth, filling the cup to the brim.

He held the goblet at arms length.

"Drink."

Harry's scar pulsed at Voldemort's chilling command. But the hissing from the back of Quirrell's turban didn't stop there.

"It will make me strong."

Tom's grip had loosened completely now as his arms no longer wrapped tightly around Harry. Instead his eyes were locked on the silver blood. Tom's head tilted and Harry could feel his deep desire to give into temptation. To take from this creature with no remorse.

Tom stepped away.

"Please-"

Tom ignored Harry as he took the goblet carefully in two hands.

"Please Tom-"

Tom tilted it towards his lips.

It was like a rush of energy, the true realisation of what was really occurring, burst into Harry. It didn't matter that Tom had his wand, nor that Quirrell was stronger.

"No," Harry screamed and he lunged forwards to grab Tom's arm in complete desperation.

Quirrell's wand was fast as it turned on Harry in a split second.

The goblet shattered as blood exploded. Harry flinched as the unicorn blood splattered across his clothes. Tom however, had it worse. Blood stained his hands and the front of his clothes shone a sickly silver.

Quirrell's curse did nothing as it dissipated into Harry.

"You fool," Quirrell hissed.

But Harry didn't wait around. He tore away from Quirrell on instinct. He didn't want this. He never wanted this.

The only indication that Tom had not remained behind was the bond between them did not falter. But Harry didn't wait for Tom to catch up. He just wanted to put as much distance between him and Quirrell as possible. The ground was rough and the tree roots hampered Harry's movement, but he didn't let up and break his pace.

His breathing was sharp and the stitch in Harry's side was growing, and it still felt like an age before the trees started to thin and the lights of Hogwarts flooded onto the grounds.

It was only when Harry reached the entrance hall did he stop. Blood covered him, silver and sticky as his whole body shook.

Tom hurtled in, not two seconds behind him, he too was drenched in blood and he moved to grab Harry.

"Stay back," Harry screamed. He threw his arms out in front of him.

Tom ignored him and he closed the distance between them in an instant. Hands enclosed completely around Harry to steady his shaking. It was instant relief and Harry sagged into Tom's embrace.

"Harry, we need to get out of here," Tom said.

But Harry couldn't find his strength to move. His legs felt like collapsing. The blood Quirrell had drunk had clearly affected Voldemort and in turn Tom. It was like Tom was stretched, distorted almost and Harry didn't like it. He felt different, like he was broken slightly and Harry didn't know how to put the pieces back together.

Tom pulled Harry back so he could see Harry properly. Tom's eyes were full of concern as his hand came to rest gently on Harry's scar.

Harry flinched, but the pain was dissipating slowly, his nerves calming as Tom held him steady. Harry swallowed, he wanted to say something, but Tom only shook his head. Hands flicking to check that Harry was unharmed.

A loud screech pierced their silence.

Harry jumped. Tom however, only tightened his grip around Harry's waist as they spun around. Laraine, Snape's bat, was perched a top the banister of the grand staircase, which could only mean one thing.

"Potter!"

Harry winced.

Professor Snape was standing at the top of the stairs, face ashen and wand out as he stared at the two of them. Harry wanted to die then and there. There was no way out.

"Come here, now," Snape's voice was barely a whisper but Harry dared not disobey. The floor shone silver as Harry's wet footsteps echoed across the floor.

It was only for Tom's deathly grip did Harry manage to close the gap between them. Surely Snape was better than Quirrell.

Snape looked livid, but he didn't say another word. He only turned, his robes sweeping out behind him which left Harry and Tom no choice but to follow. Laraine swept up behind them, sharp eyes keeping them constantly in her vision.

Harry didn't know where Snape was leading them, at least it wasn't the dungeons. Harry's nerves were nearly shot to pieces by the time they came to a halt. They were somewhere on the second floor in front of an ugly looking gargoyle statue.

"Acid pops," Snape said.

The gargoyle sprung to life and jumped to the side to reveal a circular set of stone steps leading steeply upwards. Snape gestured for Harry and Tom to move.

If Harry thought Snape was bad, it was about to get a whole lot worse. This was Dumbledore's office. Tom's grip tightened in Harry's hand and Harry squeezed his own back in return.

Even though it was late, Dumbledore sat behind his desk. Fawkes was perched in the office and Harry hated how both sets of eyes zoned in at once on the silver stains.

Harry didn't hesitate as he at once rushing to Tom's defence.

"It's my fault," Harry said as he pushed Tom behind him. "I asked Tom to come with me. Tom didn't do anything. Please-"

Please don't take Tom away from me.

Dumbledore only held up his hand and Harry stopped short, unsure whether to continue in his panic. Dumbledore stood, and Harry hated how only silence stretched out as he walked from behind his desk.

He didn't even acknowledge Tom.

"Where is the unicorn, Harry?"

The voice was filled with such disappointment, and even though Harry hated Dumbledore, he couldn't help but flinch under his icy stare.

It was Tom who answered.

"The Forbidden Forest, not half an hour in."

Harry didn't know if it was good or not that Dumbledore turned away.

"Severus, if you could please ask Hagrid to find the poor creature."

"Headmaster, I seriously-"

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "Mr Potter is currently under my guardianship and it is also my discretion as headmaster in regards to how to proceed."

Harry wanted to just be swallowed it up. Snape looked furious but he didn't protest any further. Instead he twisted around, Laraine coming to perch on his shoulder as Snape stormed out of the room. As soon as the door closed, Harry started again.

"Tom didn't kill it, it wasn't his fault. I wanted to go into the forest, it was my-"

Dumbledore raised his hand, his stare halting Harry mid sentence.

"What happened to the unicorn, Harry?"

"I-" Harry swallowed. His eyes closed momentarily as he remembered it falling to the ground, the pain as it died underneath Quirrell's grip. He hated how he hadn't done more. He should have at least been able to do something, not just freeze.

"I-it was hurt," Harry said. "I didn't know what to do...I didn't know how to save it."

Harry knew his lie was miserable, that Dumbledore would see straight through it. Blood soaked both of them, it was so obvious something was amiss but Harry was desperate, he would say anything.

"Why were you in the forest, Harry?"

"I-" Harry faltered, there was nothing which could explain it.

"Harry was looking for Lyra."

Tom's voice totally took Harry by surprise. He tried not to show it but her name distracted him. Would she be ashamed of him too.

"Lyra?" Dumbledore asked as his own brow creased.

This time Tom didn't answer.

"My dæmon," Harry said thickly. "I thought she was close, I-"

"Ever since Harry lost her, he's been chasing shadows," Tom's lies came easier than Harry's own. "I can't always convince him to remain in the castle. He panics and runs blindly. When we happened across the injured unicorn, Harry was already distraught. Of course there was nothing we could do to save it, but Harry still had to try."

Dumbledore was silent for a long while, and Harry didn't know whether to agree and expand on what Tom had said. Instead, he settled for staring at his shoes. But the silver splatters only made his stomach churn.

"Is this the truth, Harry?"

Harry nodded as he still didn't want to meet Dumbledore's gaze. It didn't help when Fawkes took flight before he came to rest on Dumbledore's desk. Fawkes stared down at them both, and Harry, who wanted nothing more than to ran away, remained deadly still.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke.

"Mr Potter, the severity of this is insurmountable as the forbidden forest in strictly out of bounds. I will be deducting fifty points from Gryffindor and you will have to serve detention until otherwise informed."

Only numbness consumed Harry but what else could he say. As long as they weren't going to return to the ministry.

"Detention?" Tom interrupted. "Harry is suffering after you forced his dæmon away and you think it's right to punish him?"

Fawkes screeched and Dumbledore's gaze sharpened.

"You are already treading a fine line and your story is barely believable at best. You can refer to Harry's punishment as being grounded if you prefer it."

Harry felt hot and dizzy.

"If you don't believe me, why don't you tell the ministry?" he asked.

Dumbledore however ignored his question.

"You are excused," he said.

Tom looked like he wanted to say more and Harry was fearful that Tom would pull out his wand. Harry tugged at Tom's hand, hoping he would leave it. Given the circumstances they had gotten off lightly.

Finally, Tom relented and he squeezed Harry's own as he turned. It took all of Harry's self control not to bolt out the office in an instant, instead he lead Tom slowly down the steps and into the darkened corridor.

Thankfully, Snape and Laraine were nowhere to be seen. Not that it made Harry feel any happier. It was only when they were up several flights of stairs did Harry begin to calm down.

"I don't understand," Harry said. "Why is Dumbledore protecting us from the ministry? It doesn't make any sense. Surely it's better if he has an excuse to lock you up? It's what they want right?"

Tom remained walking silently by his side.

"Tom?"

Tom shook his head.

"No, it doesn't make any sense. Which is only going to make it harder to explain to Voldemort."

Harry blanched at this.

"Why? It's his fault we're in this mess, why does it make a difference how Dumbledore acts?"

This time Tom didn't offer him an answer.

"Come on, Harry. Let's get cleaned up."

Harry stomach twisted. Why did he have the distinct impression that Tom was keeping secrets from him again.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Tom fell onto the bed as he examined his blood stained hands. The unicorn had really been unforgiving and although its previous silver sheen had now dulled, it left a murky splatter across his hands and face.

Tom rolled his eyes when he noticed Harry attempt to rub the stains from his own hands.

"Come here," Tom said as he shifted forwards to pull Harry close.

"Don't-" Harry said and he took a single step back. Tom stopped short and his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"Harry, I didn't-" Tom started.

"Oh, stop lying, you knew about the unicorn."

At this, Tom's gaze immediately slipped away from Harry to the surrounding room. The dormitory had long gone dark, and if Ron's snores were anything to go by they weren't going to be interrupted. Tom fixed his gaze directly back on Harry as he made to close the hangings.

This time it was Harry who rolled his eyes as he shifted onto the bed. Tom pulled the curtains closed around them.

Tom didn't hesitate as he took the opportunity to twist Harry into his embrace. Harry reacted on instinct as he jerked upwards, but Tom only tugged him back. Harry settled back down scowling.

"You were going to drink it's blood," Harry said.

Tom frowned and tilted his head.

"So?"

Tom could have said anything and it would have been better than his cold indifference. It didn't help that Harry could still remember Quirrell's gulps as the curse ran through their connection.

"Do you even know what unicorn blood does, Harry?" Tom said.

Harry crossed his arms as he glared up at Tom.

"No, but that's not the point," Harry said. It had felt wrong enough and the fact it made Voldemort stronger was more then chilling.

"No, I guess it's not," Tom said. "You shouldn't have left, Voldemort isn't going to be pleased."

That wasn't the point either.

"Well that's his problem," Harry said.

"Mmm, I guess it is," Tom agreed.

Harry frowned but Tom seemed oddly satisfied as he hummed and ran his fingers through Harry's hair. Harry's heart ached, it seemed like an age since they'd been like this. Tom's actions screamed fake as he attempted to sooth Harry into a false sense of security. Something was clearly wrong, and it wasn't just Dumbledore's lack of action to inform the ministry, or the death of the unicorn which would make Harry sleep uneasy tonight.

* * *

Sure enough, the stares and whispers that followed Harry over the next day were extreme to say the least. Every corner Harry turned, he found half a dozen people shooting looks in his and Tom's direction. Of course, this was usually to be expected, but it was only exaggerated due to the huge deduction of Gryffindor points and the stains which Harry and Tom still hadn't manage to remove.

It didn't help that Tom was translucent to everyone else, and that only made the silver stand out more.

Thankfully the castle was going to be emptier then usual in the coming weeks. The Easter holidays were starting It also meant that Harry wouldn't have to face Quirrell until classes started back up again.

"It's not that bad," Ron encouraged at dinner. "It'll disappear in a few days and everyone will forget about it."

Harry slumped as a couple of people passed behind him, whispering under their breaths. Beside him, Hermione looked just dejected as she pushed her food around.

"Look, I'm sorry about losing Gryffindor house points-" Harry started.

Hermione looked up and she looked genuinely surprised as her brow knitted together and Ramiron squeaked.

"Oh, no. It's not that," Hermione said.

At Harry and Ron's confused gazes she sighed.

"It's just, I was doing some more reading-"

Ron rolled his eyes, as Hermione took a deep breath.

"And well, are you sure you're okay, Harry?

"I'm fine," Harry said.

"Are you sure?" Hermione repeated. "Just do you know what happens to witches or wizards who lose their dæmons and don't get them back-"

Harry had never seen Tom move so fast in his life. In less than a second, he reached for Harry's wand and had it held directly not two inches from Hermione's throat. Ramiron jumped out of her arms. Even though Ramiron couldn't shield Hermione, he arched his back and hissed at Tom.

"Don't-" Tom said.

Hermione jutted her chin up.

"Harry needs to know."

Harry however was totally thrown. Quirrell was the only person who was without a dæmon entirely and he was still functioning.

"That's not going to happen," Tom hissed.

No Harry turned to Tom. Harry grabbed Tom's wrist to pull the wand away from Hermione's face.

"Oh great, something else you're hiding from me?"

The look Tom gave him as he yanked his arm away from Harry's grip.

"It doesn't matter, trust me."

Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. He had trusted Tom when they had entered the forest.

Hermione looked stricken, as if unsure of what she had started. Ron however only watched intrigued as Sephronia took the opportunity to swipe Ron's bacon.

Tom still gripped Harry's wand and he looked quite tempted to use it.

"Look, I'm sorry you lost fifty points but it's not the end of the world, it's only a house cup," Tom said.

Now it was Harry who returned the cold look. House points were the last thing on his mind, right below the Gryffindor's hating him and the detentions Dumbledore had given him. Voldemort was the problem and Tom knew it.

"You know I don't care about that," Harry said. Multiple heads turned in their direction but Harry had managed to attract more attention.

"Wow, you Gryffindor's are really melodramatic-"

Harry spun around at the intrusion and came face to face with an amused Draco Malfoy. Adara skirted round his heels as she peered up at Tom.

"What do you want?" Harry snapped.

Draco smirked as he raised both hands up with a shrug.

"Well the rumour among the Slytherin's is that you were fighting the bloody baron, I just wanted to see if it was true?"

At Harry's furious look, Draco only smiled.

"What? I was rather pleased with it myself."

"Don't you have better things to do then make up rumours about me and Tom?" Harry asked.

Draco smirked and lowered his hands.

"Sure, but I still wanted to come and thank you for destroying Gryffindor's chances at winning the house cup."

"Get lost, Malfoy," Ron said as he jumped up.

"There's no need to be a sore loser, Weasley-" Draco started, but he didn't get to finish.

Sephronia was out like a heart beat, her teeth snapping towards Adara. Adara reacted in a second. She darted away from Draco and the small terrier and ferret collided, teeth and claws bared.

"Don't fight," Ramiron protested as he squeaked and jumped down from the table.

Draco and Ron both reached for their wands.

And then Einaris was there, his back arched as he hissed. Sephronia and Adara separated as quickly as they had started.

Draco scooped up Adara, although the small ferret looked like she was tempted to go for Ron's dæmon again. All eight of them turned to see Professor McGonagall standing behind them.

"If you would both like to join Mr Potter in detention, I'm sure that can be arranged," McGonagall said. Einaris still had his claws out as both Ron and Draco but shook their heads.

"I was just giving Harry something, Professor," Draco said.

At McGonagall's stern look, Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out some heavy parchment.

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"A letter from my father," Draco said as he handed it over.

Harry unraveled it and his eyes scanned over the Malfoy family crest at the top. Harry's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Is this real?"

Ron snatched it out of Harry's hand before Tom could see it.

"Of course, father wasn't going to let them send you off to live with just anybody," Draco said. "I mean, to think they sent you off to muggle's in the first place."

Hermione peered over Ron's shoulder, her eyes reading hurriedly as Ramiron jumped back up onto the table.

"Oh, but this says your guardian is currently Dumbledore?" she said.

Ron and Hermione turned to look at Harry. Of course, Harry still hadn't mentioned every detail that had happened after the trial.

"Only during the school term," Draco added as Tom pulled the letter out from Ron's hands. "During the summer you'll be staying at my house."

Harry frowned as he watched Tom read the letter. Tom looked almost uninterested as he handed the parchment back to Harry with a shrug. Harry couldn't help but feel conflicted, of course Tom wouldn't be surprised.

McGonagall turned to Harry.

"Mr Potter, if you are quite finished?" she gestured for Harry to accompany her.

From McGonagall's reaction, it didn't look like she was surprised either, which only reinforced Harry's concerns.

What had Tom written in that letter to Dumbledore?

Harry didn't bother offering an explanation to Ron or Hermione as Harry trudged after McGonagall. Harry's head was still spinning from the letter, he didn't know quite what to make of it.

Einaris hung back slightly, cat eyes still very carefully locked between Adara and Sephronia as Draco walked away with a wave.

"You are to serve your detention with Hagrid this evening," McGonagall said as they moved out of the Great Hall.

Sure enough, Hagrid was waiting for them in the entrance hall, he waved happily at Harry who didn't manage a smile back.

Harry looked warily at Ilaria. He didn't like the way she was eyeing Tom. She had a hungry look in her eyes and her teeth looked bigger and sharper than he remembered.

"Make sure you escort Mr Potter back up to the castle when you are finished, Hagrid," McGonagall said.

At least detention with Hagrid couldn't be worse than Quirrell. Even though Harry hadn't visited Hagrid like he had promised, Hagrid didn't seem to mind as he only smiled merrily at McGonagall and steered Harry outside into the cool night air.

"How's Hedwig gettin' on?" Hagrid asked, as they walked across the grounds.

"Fine," Harry said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. He really wished Ilaria would look away from Tom.

"There's a spell for that," Hagrid said who was still oblivious to Harry's nerves as he nodded towards the dull blood stains. "I don't know it though-"

"Helpful," Tom muttered.

It was a clear night and Harry was surprised when they turned to the side of Hagrid's hut.

"We're going back into the forest?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, but we've other things teh do first," Hagrid said.

They walked only a short distance around the tree line before they came to their intended destination. Harry should have expected it really, but it still stung when he noticed the huge body lying on the ground.

Hagrid had found the unicorn and he had moved it to just on the edge of the forest.

"It's best buried," Hagrid explained. "The creatures won't like it much otherwise, and it's best not teh disturb the forest."

Harry stared at the unicorn. It was still perfectly preserved, aside where Quirrell had sliced it, the unicorn looked like it could be sleeping.

It made Harry's stomach churn.

There was already a huge hole dug out beside it with tree roots weaving out from the mud.

"We'll bury this one and then we'll head into the forest," Hagrid said.

"Can't the horn and hairs be salvaged for other uses?" Harry asked.

"Nah, this unicorn has suffered enough. It'll be no use now, see?" Hagrid pointed towards the mane. Sure enough the hairs which had been beautifully white were now a dull grey. The horn too was already starting to wither.

Hagrid bent down and heaved the creature onto his shoulder and leveraged it into the grave. He then began shovelling while Ilaria turned and began kicking dirt with her powerful back legs.

There was a spare spade stuck in the ground. Tom didn't offer any help as Harry picked it up. Not that Harry managed to make much of a contribution. Just as he was starting to get the hang of it, Hagrid was already tapping the final layers of dirt on the mound.

They stood back and Hagrid sniffed causing Tom to roll his eyes. They remained in silence for a few moments until Hagrid broke the silence.

"Did yeh see what hurt it?" Hagrid asked.

Harry's heart twisted but he couldn't force his voice to cooperate. Fortunately, Hagrid took his silence as a no.

Hagrid put a large hand on Harry's shoulder which made him to sag slightly.

"It's not yer fault, Harry."

Harry only nodded his head silently. He knew this. It was Voldemort's and Tom's to some extent. Tom could have done more to stop it instead of restraining Harry.

"It takes a dark creature to take down a unicorn," Hagrid said.

If this was meant to make Harry feel better it didn't.

"It's not the only unicorn that's been attacked," Hagrid continued. "I found some more tracks last night."

Harry's gaze snapped to Hagrid's.

"That would have been Harry and I when we left the forest," Tom said. "We probably splattered blood everywhere."

Hagrid shook his head.

"Not unless yeh ran in deeper. That's where we're goin'."

Quirrell had killed more unicorn's. Surely one was already horrific enough.

"We'll split up so we can cover more ground," Ilaria said. "And if you find one, shoot up green sparks." Harry nodded. He was keen to get away from Ilaria's sharp teeth.

"An' if yeh get in trouble, send up red sparks, an' we'll come an' find yeh – so, be careful, let's go," Hagrid added.

The forest was louder, more alive than before, as the howls of creatures called to each other. Harry walked ahead of Tom a their footsteps retraced the same path from the previous night.

A little way into the forest they reached a fork in the earth path, Hagrid and Ilaria took the left path and Harry and Tom took the right.

They walked in silence. It was twenty minutes in when the light began to fade. The trees knotted together above them, sheltering what little light the moon had to offer.

Harry really hoped Quirrell wasn't in the forest tonight. He didn't know what he'd do if Voldemort tried to get Tom to drink blood again. But something told him that lack of silence was indication that Voldemort wasn't stalking the forest.

Tom was still following quietly and Harry was glad for he was in no mood to listen to Tom's excuses. If Tom couldn't see a problem in Voldemort killing and drinking unicorn blood then there was little Harry would be able to convince him of.

Instead, Harry turned his attention to the other problem he had.

"What did you put in that letter to Dumbledore?" Harry asked.

Behind him, Tom remained silent as they walked. They stepped over a dozen more tree roots before Harry got an answer.

"I only asked if you could stay with school friends for the holiday," Tom said.

"You didn't," Harry said, as he glanced over his shoulder. "You asked if I could go and stay with the Malfoy's? That's what Voldemort would want isn't it? For one of his Death Eaters to keep an eye on us."

"Yes, it's what Voldemort would prefer, but I had no input into the ministry's decision," Tom said. "Lucius Malfoy is influential and he showed an interest in your safety during the trial, it makes sense the ministry would choose him to look after us."

In all honestly, Harry was a little conflicted. Of course, he didn't see quite eye to eye with Draco, and yes he'd rather stay with Ron or Hermione, but to think he wouldn't be under Dumbledore's care in the summer was still something of a relief.

Although, that was something else which was still confusing in itself. Dumbledore's reaction last night still hadn't been explained.

Dumbledore had only given them detention. He hadn't even told Scrimgeour about the unicorn and Scrimgeour certainly wouldn't have missed an opportunity to lock them up. Harry's wand was also meant to be subjected to random inspections and the ministry hadn't even done it once yet.

Nothing was making sense.

Maybe Voldemort had assured their safety in more ways the intended if Dumbledore and the Ministry didn't have the will to separate them again. Which if true, meant there was no reason for Harry to satisfy the whims of the Dark Lord. Voldemort had been security initially but now everything had changed.

"I know what you're thinking," Tom's voice called from behind.

Harry didn't reply as he concentrated on his footing. The ground was already beginning to deteriorate, tree roots and thorns wound along the forest floor. Harry was surprised neither he or Tom had fallen in their escape last night.

"You think we would be better off if we told the Ministry about Voldemort," Tom continued. "You think Dumbledore would let us stay at Hogwarts."

It was just a lucky guess. Harry ducked under a tree branch and twisted round to look at Tom. Tom paused on the other side of the tree.

"And you don't," Harry said. It wasn't a question.

Tom tilted his head and his hands gripped the branch between them as he lent forwards.

"Voldemort is the only way we can stay together," Tom said.

"So you say," Harry said. "But the Ministry are finally leaving us alone, and you keep jeopardising-"

"Have you so easily forgotten?" Tom voice was suddenly sharp, his gaze cold. "They put me to trial, wanted to severe us and destroy me."

"I haven't forgotten," Harry bit out as he fists clenched. "But I don't want this either."

Harry gestured back in the direction of the buried unicorn. Why did Tom still not get it. Voldemort was nothing but poison.

Harry had expected Tom to be angry, so he was surprised when Tom stepped back as he crossed his arms.

"Okay then, we tell them, then what? Do you really think the ministry can hold Voldemort? Do you think he won't be able to take us by force?" Tom said.

Harry didn't reply to this. He hadn't thought about that and Tom knew it. Tom was watching him carefully now, his eyebrows raised as he waiting expectantly. When Harry remained silent, Tom continued his expression softening slightly.

"My only objective is to keep you safe, Harry," Tom said.

Somewhere in the distance something howled. It gave Harry an excuse to look away from Tom as he scanned their surroundings. Harry wished he could believe Tom, but each lie was like a sharp knife twisting inside Harry's gut.

Tom moved suddenly and he ducked under the branch so they were only inches apart.

"Scrimgeour made it very clear he was quite happy to lock us up regardless," Tom said. "Do you think he needs a reason? Public support or not, it will only be so long before they act."

Harry could feel Tom's breath on his face as he turned away.

"But he won't have a reason to if he knows you're separate from Voldemort!" Harry said.

Tom only smiled sadly at this as he tugged Harry back round to look at him.

"I am still a part of Voldemort's soul, Harry. They won't forget that. The Ministry offer us nothing but uncertainty and I will not put our connection at risk. Not after what happened with the guillotine."

Tom gripped Harry's chin to ensure he had Harry's complete attention.

"If we betrayed Voldemort, he would show you no mercy," Tom whispered.

"I'm not afraid" Harry said.

"No," Tom admitted, his sad smile lingering. "But I am. I know what he is capable of and I will not put you to harm."

Harry looked away again which caused Tom's hand to fall to his side. He wished he had Lyra. Everything would be easier then. The lingering pain would stop and he would finally be able to think straight.

"We don't have many options left, Harry," Tom's voice was so soft.

That much was true. Harry bit his lip as his heart began to pound horribly fast.

"Will it always be like this?" Harry said.

Now Tom tilted his head, his brow creasing.

"Like what?"

"You bending to Voldemort's every whim?" Harry asked.

Tom sighed heavily this time but he didn't answer the question.

"I didn't know we were going into the forest, Harry. Quirrell wanted you in detention, that's all I was told to do. It's not like it's a big deal."

Again, the simmering resentment that Tom hadn't told him began to surface. Harry's initial shock had faded. He was going to push Tom away but Tom seemed to anticipate this. His hands coiled into the front of Harry's shirt as Tom gripped it tightly so Harry couldn't force himself away.

"If we obey Voldemort, no one will harm us again," Tom said.

Harry nodded, his stomach twisted but still the silence stretched. He knew what he had to do, but the words were so much harder to say.

"I cant do this anymore, you have to choose."

"I have to choose?" Tom repeated softly, but his eyes were suddenly so cold.

Harry took a deep breath.

"Between me and Voldemort. I don't want to share you Tom."

Harry's tried to swallow his panic but the doubt was overwhelming. It didn't help when Tom's expression steeled over and he didn't say a word. Tom's grip remained tight, offering them no space apart.

Harry wanted to ignore the pain which flooded through him, but he held himself steady as his head spun.

"If you chose Voldemort, just tell me-"

The look that Tom gave him. The pure anger that coursed through him shook Harry to the core as Tom moved away from Harry in an instant. Tom's nails dug into Harry's skin ever so briefly as he shoved him away.

"Oh come on," Harry snapped and he grabbed Tom's wrist to twist him around. "It's not like you've given me any reason to think otherwise."

Tom glared at Harry but he didn't deny it. Harry refused to back down as a sour taste began to build in his mouth. He couldn't live without Tom, but Harry couldn't live with Voldemort either.

"You were going to drink it's blood!" Harry repeated. "You started learning Occulumency to shut me out, you don't even tell me anything anymore. Why should I think that you care about me at all?"

Tom ripped his arm out of Harry's grip as he turned back to face him.

"I started learning Occulumency for you-" Tom started.

"Stop it," Harry snarled. "Just stop lying. Voldemort wanted you to study Occulumency, you just messed up and I found out. It's the same with the unicorn, Voldemort didn't expect I'd run."

Harry drew a shaky breath.

"I can't do this anymore, Tom. Voldemort is changing you, and I don't like it."

"I am Voldemort," Tom said, his voice barely a whisper above his anger.

"No you're not," Harry said. "You're Tom. You're _my_ Tom. You aren't that...that thing, that face on the back of someone's head, barely living and powerless. Voldemort is evil and I don't want help from him or the Ministry. I just want it to be us again, Tom. Why can't you see that? Why do you have to choose _him_?"

Tom was silent. Their connection buzzing with emotions. Harry felt sick to the stomach as he waited for Tom to do something, to say anything.

Instead Tom remained deadly still as he glared at Harry.

"You promised me you'd remember," Tom said, but his voice was hardly controlled. If anything, his voice wavered.

Tom stepped forwards, but he halted, hand only inches from Harry's as if he wanted to reach out and take Harry's own.

It was just for a second and then Tom's expression twisted back into one of anger. Tom shoved past Harry and walked further into the forest.

Harry was left alone, feeling numb as his anger changed into confusion. What was he supposed to remember?

* * *

Tom was waiting in a small clearing. Another unicorn was lying stretched out. It was just like the first, so perfectly preserved aside from the gaping wound from where Quirrell had clearly killed it.

Harry took his wand out of his pocket and pointed it upwards. Green sparks erupted and rocketed high above the tree line. It probably wouldn't take long for Hagrid and Ilaria to navigate their way through the forest.

"The Philosopher's Stone," Tom said.

Harry blinked, not quite sure what he was meant to get out of that. All of Tom's anger seemed to have dissipated as quickly as it had come. At Harry's puzzled look, Tom sighed.

"The Philosopher's stone," Tom repeated. "That's what is hidden on the third floor and is what Voldemort is after. It's also where Voldemort suspects the mirror has been moved to."

Harry's heart leapt at this but at the same time a sour taste formed in his mouth.

"How long have you known that?" Harry said.

Tom didn't even look at him.

"Does it matter?" he said.

Of course it mattered.

"It was also incidentally why Quirrell was in Diagon Alley on your birthday and why Hagrid didn't want me going down to vault 713. That was where the stone was hidden before it was moved to Hogwarts."

Before, Harry would have given anything for Tom to speak to him like this. To trust him unconditionally. Harry didn't even feel angry, instead he was just hollow, like Tom was only appeasing him. Tom should have told him to begin with.

Tom seemed to be thinking the same thing, his response was unemotional as he continued.

"Quirrell also let the troll in on Hallo'ween which was why he was so furious with you. We interrupted his initial attempt to retrieve the stone."

"Why does Voldemort even want the stone?" Harry asked.

Tom sighed.

"I don't know, Harry."

At Harry's furious glare, Tom relented.

"The Philosopher's stone is also known as the elixir of life. It will give Voldemort a body of his own."

This alone was chilling enough. No wonder Voldemort was still in the castle. Harry couldn't think of anything worse. Harry could remember the fear from the Wizengamot. If they would go to such lengths to destroy Tom, Voldemort alone must have been terrifying.

"Quirrell hasn't yet found a way past the creature guarding the entrance," Tom said. "The stone is safe for now."

Instant relief flooded Harry but it was short lived.

"If Quirrell retrieved the stone Voldemort would leave the castle," Tom added.

Harry couldn't help but feel guilty. The mirror would be found. Except there was one issue remaining.

"And what would we do?" Harry asked.

Tom didn't look at him, perhaps he knew Harry's reaction.

"We would leave."

Harry took a shaky breath Now that they had settled back into school and the Ministry had more of less left Harry and Tom alone, Harry didn't really want to leave. Hogwarts had become his home and it was frightening to think Tom and Voldemort would be together constantly.

"There was a time when you didn't want to return to Hogwarts," Tom said quietly.

That wasn't fair and Tom knew it. Harry had nearly lost Tom, had lost Lyra. He had been in no state to think clearly. He had only wanted to run.

"If we left you could look for Lyra," Tom added, he was watching Harry intently now as his eyes swept over every reaction.

"Or Lyra wouldn't know where to find me," Harry said numbly.

The sound of crashing interrupted them as Ilaria came bursting through the foliage, Hagrid was right on her heels.

Ilaria at once snapped her gaze to Tom, before she approached the unicorn cautiously. She gave it a quick sniff before shaking her head towards Hagrid.

At Harry's fallen face, Hagrid placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"Come on, that's enough," Hagrid said. In one movement Hagrid bent down and positioned the dead creature over his shoulder and set off back in the direction of the castle.

Harry and Tom followed silently. They made good time and it wasn't long before they made it make onto the edge of the Hogwart's grounds.

Harry guessed they would bury the unicorn straight away, so he was surprised when Hagrid set the creature down and steered them into his cabin.

Hagrid's cabin was small considering the size of him but it was certainly homely. There was a large bed tucked in the corned and a fire which had just burnt down.

Harry waited awkwardly as Hagrid stoked the fire and encouraged it back to life. Hagrid then set about heating a large kettle. Harry shot a quick glance in Tom's direction.

What were they supposed to do now? If things had been complicated before, now Harry was even more confused. He had the conformation that Tom had been lying to him, but that only made Harry feel worse.

Ilaria was still watching Tom as Hagrid poured the tea. He handed it to Harry with a smile.

When Harry didn't return it, Hagrid continued, seemingly to figure why Harry was upset.

"Dumbledore's not that bad, Harry," Hagrid said as he took a swig of something that smelled stronger then tea. "Yeh detentions will be over before yeh know it."

Harry gripped his scolding mug. He watched the steam rising from the cup.

Harry wished it was true. It would make everything so much easier if he could go to Dumbledore. He could keep Tom away from Voldemort then. But Tom was right. Harry could never forget what Dumbledore had tried to do.

"That's easy for you to say," he muttered.

"Nah, it's not," Hagrid replied.

Harry looked up surprised.

Ilaria too looked away from Tom for the first time. Instead she bared her teeth and growled towards Hagrid.

Hagrid pattered Ilaria, but this did little to settle her.

"People make mistakes, Harry," Hagrid said. "I know it's hurting yeh, but Dumbledore is usually right."

"He's not right," Harry bit out automatically.

Hagrid only smiled sadly.

"Dæmons are dangerous, Harry. Yeh can't always trust them."

Ilaria actually snarled and Hagrid battered her on the head gently.

"Calm down," he said.

Harry was left staring.

The only time he'd ever seen a dæmon side against their human was with Neville and Cyrilla. She had ignored Neville in potions that one time. To see that it was more normal for a person to disagree with their dæmon was an odd rush of comfort.

"Hagrid?"

"Come on, we better get yeh back up teh the castle."

Harry was reeling with more questions, but they fell on deaf ears as Hagrid piled up a dozen rock cakes for him.

* * *

It turned out that Hagrid did a lot of work around the Hogwarts grounds and as the Easter holidays progressed, Harry actually found himself enjoying his detentions. Hagrid hadn't taken them into the forest again, but instead had started showing them around the grounds. The only task Harry hadn't particularly enjoyed was when they had cleaned out the owlery. He hadn't been able to get the smell of dropping off him for at least a couple of days.

Harry had also explained that the Dursley's were no longer his guardians to Ron and Hermione and understandably, they had both been surprised.

"Hopefully I'll still be able to come and visit in the holidays. I don't think I could spend a whole summer with Draco," Harry said.

This had cheered up Ron who had then told him about the ghoul that lived in the attic above his room. Harry had also wanted to speak to Draco again, but it seemed the Slytherin had gone home for the holidays.

The one thing that still wasn't right was Tom. When in company they acted normal enough, but everything was fake. Their interactions were stiff and meaningless. It was like they'd forgotten how things used to be. Tom would spend most of his time with his head in a book which left Harry to either do his homework or play a game of chess with Ron.

Harry still hadn't figured out what he was supposed to remember and it didn't help that Harry could feel Lyra's absence only growing again. Since the mirror, he'd settled slightly but now Harry's foundations were starting to disintegrate. Harry had refused to turn to Tom and Harry was sure Tom was aware. Harry would catch Tom watching him, but if Harry said anything Tom would just turn away without an answer.

The Philosopher's stone had also been playing on Harry's mind. Harry had spent hours thinking back to his and Tom's conversation in the forest as he wondered how long the stone would remain safe. Harry wasn't sure what he would do if Voldemort actually got his hands on it.

His immediate reaction was to run, but Harry knew Tom would not allow it. Which left Harry just hoping that Voldemort would never find the stone.

As expected though, the Easter holidays came to a close far too quickly and with students returning to the castle the whispers and angry mutterings of the Gryffindor's returned.

What Harry was now dreading most though was Defence Against the Dark Arts as he still hadn't seen Quirrell since that night in the forest.

"Defence is this way, Harry," Hermione said as they left transfiguration class.

"I know," Harry replied. "I'm not going. I don't feel well."

Hermione's brow wasn't the only one that creased. Tom stepped close and pushed back Harry's fringe.

"You're not burning up," Tom said.

Harry battered his hand away as they made their way away from Hermione.

"You can't avoid Voldemort forever," Tom said.

"I can try," Harry muttered.

Of course, Harry's luck didn't last for long.

It was evening, when Harry was just about to head out into the grounds to meet Hagrid for his detention when Einaris appeared. McGonagall wasn't that far behind.

"Not tonight, Mr Potter. You'll be with Professor Quirrell this evening, he has requested your assistance in his office."

Harry's heart sunk.

"Can't I go and help Hagrid again?"

McGonagall and Einaris gave him a funny look.

"I think not, Mr Potter. You are serving detention. It is only fitting that you don't get a say in the matter."

* * *

Harry's scar was unusually painless as he stepped into Quirrell's office. It seemed Professor Quirrell wasn't there yet.

Tom lent on Quirrell's desk and examined the few objects which sat upon it.

"Can't we just make a break for it?" Harry asked. Maybe they would be able to get to Hogsmede before Voldemort would realise they'd left.

Tom smiled, almost fondly, but he shook his head.

And then Quirrell appeared. Harry's scar burned and he fell grasping his forehead. Tom remained by the desk. He didn't move Harry's aid as he only watched Quirrell enter.

It was so much worse then normal and Harry could feel every ounce of fury from Voldemort pulse through him.

"Explain yourself," Quirrell hissed.

Harry opened his mouth as he struggled to think straight.

"It was necessary," Tom said.

Harry was still crouching as he looked between his hands. He was stunned to see Quirrell advancing on Tom, his wand raised.

Still Tom remained by the desk, unflinching.

Harry realised what was happening only seconds before Quirrell acted, but it was too late. Harry was still on the floor, grasping his scar. He wouldn't reach Tom in time.

"No, don't-"

Harry jumped forwards.

And then for the second time Quirrell was touching Tom.

Harry collapsed, his breath dissipating as he gasped for air. It was just like after the troll. Intrusive and wrong in every sense of the word.

But this time Quirrell wasn't letting go. Harry ached for it to end and for Tom to return to him.

"If you cannot be trusted-" Quirrell started.

"You can trust me," Tom interrupted his voice sharp.

"There was no reason for the boy to know," Quirrell said.

"I can only stall for so long, Harry won't stay quiet for long-"

Harry's head throbbed as Tom's voice faded. Harry clutched at his scar as he tried to concentrate but his vision shifted to black.

"-out of options. You need to act now."

Harry groaned as sickness rose in his throat.

"I do not yet have the way through-"

"Then you have to decide. What is more important, me or the stone?" Tom's voice was clearer now but still everything was disjointed.

And then almost as quickly as it had started, the feeling stopped. Quirrell had released Tom.

Harry could hear footsteps now but he couldn't bring himself to reach out.

Tom knelt down by Harry's side and gently positioned Harry's misplaced glasses back on his face. Not that it helped, the room was still spinning.

"You won't say anything," Tom said. "Will you, Harry?"

Harry couldn't find his voice as Tom gripped Harry's arm and pulled him up roughly. Harry clung to Tom as his body shook with tremors.

What was he to keep quiet? It took Harry a moment to understand. The stone. Tom wasn't supposed to have told him about the stone. But then, how did Voldemort know? Had he been watching them?

At Harry's lack of response, Tom looked up and started to hiss quickly in parseltongue.

And then Voldemort was hissing.

Harry didn't know if Quirrell could understand but from the sharp pulse that shot through Tom, Harry assumed it could not be good.

Tom dipped his head low.

"Tomorrow," Tom whispered.

Tom's grip tightened around Harry, all but pulling him out of the room. Harry was trembling, but he forced his legs to move as Tom held him tightly. His scar was clearing now but that did little to clear the confusion.

"Tom-?"

Tom kept walking but he didn't speak.

"Tom, stop."

But Tom kept on walking.

"What happens tomorrow? Tom?"

But Tom wouldn't even look at him as fear spiked between them.

Harry grabbed Tom and spun him round. Harry staggered from the amount of effort it took.

"Tom, damn it. Tell me."

Tom turned, and Harry could see the shadows under Tom eyes. Tom looked tired, exhausted even. Why hadn't Harry noticed before.

Tom's smile however was chilling.

"Just a change of plans, Harry."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

"Plan? What plan?"

Tom didn't answer. He only seemed more determined as he wrapped his fingers around Harry's arm once more.

"Tom, stop it. You can't keep doing this-"

But Tom wasn't listening. He had an odd look on his face which Harry had only seen a few times before.

Harry attempted to tug himself away, but after Quirrell's interaction with Tom it was difficult to concentrate and Harry's head pulsed painfully.

"Tom, please-"

This seemed to work. Tom's footsteps slowed and his voice dropped to a whisper.

"Don't fight this, Harry."

Tom could only mean the stone, but Harry didn't even have his own plan yet. It was only when they turned another corner, did Harry realise that's not what Tom had meant at all. They weren't heading back to the dormitory.

"The Hospital Wing? Are you serious? I'm fine," Harry said.

"You can barely stand, Harry," Tom said.

Harry glared at him as he yanked his arm.

"And whose fault is that?" he snapped. But somehow Harry had managed to twist away. He didn't stay free for long, as Tom reacted before Harry could take another step. Tom spun Harry around so he was slammed against the corridors stone wall.

Harry's vision blurred but that didn't stop him from kicking out. Tom however, anticipated this as he pushed his leg sharply into Harry's so that there was no room to move.

"Stop it," Tom said. "You're about to pass out."

"Get off me," Harry protested, as he attempted to untangle himself. "It's not like you care, and I was fine last time Quirrell touched you."

Tom's eyes narrowed.

"Last time, you still had Lyra," he said.

Harry refused to give in to his swimming vision as he blinked a couple of time.

"Just get off me."

Surprisingly, Tom did exactly this. He let go, not that Tom stepped back though, Harry still had no space to run. Instead Tom only placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Please, just let me look after you, Harry."

Harry nearly fell into Tom's embrace then and there. The warmth that was flowing from Tom was overwhelming in itself.

"No, stop it," Harry mumbled almost deliriously. "How are you doing that?"

Tom tilted his head, and Harry knew the frown wasn't genuine.

"Doing what?"

But already Harry was relaxing, his scar numbing as Tom pulled him gently forwards.

"We should at least pick up a potion," Tom said as he began to walk. "It won't take long, and then we can talk about this properly."

Harry glared at him, but it was so hard to concentrate.

"Fine," Harry said. "But just one potion."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey noticed them at soon as they entered.

"Harry's been having nightmares," Tom said at once. "He's not been sleeping well."

"I have not- Ow," Tom pinched him hard. But Madam Pomfrey had already summoned a dreamless sleep potion as she gestured to the nearest bed.

"Potter, you look awful. Are you feeling alright?" she waved her wand over the top of his head.

"I'm fine, really," Harry said as he glared at Tom. Kulang, Madam Pomfrey's hedgehog scurried up to Harry's feet and sniffed him once.

"Potter needs a calming draught," Kulang squeaked.

Tom frowned, his face a mask of genuine concern.

"Harry's not been sleeping well for weeks. He'll be alright won't he?"

Madam Pomfrey glanced over Harry again before she waved her wand. A couple more potions whizzed into her hand.

"These three will do," Madam Pomfrey said and she handed them to Tom. "Make sure he drinks all of them, and you're staying in here tonight."

"I'll look after him," Tom said and he flashed a smile.

She only nodded, before she turned and made her way towards her office. Kulang followed behind her but he didn't look too happy.

"I don't want it," Harry said, as soon as Madam Pomfrey had retreated. Harry pushed Tom's arm away as he attempted to swing his legs out of bed. "And I agreed one potion, that was it."

Tom gripped Harry's shoulders.

"You need rest, Harry," Tom said.

"I do not-"

But Tom was already pressing the dreamless sleep potion into his mouth. Harry coughed and spluttered, but Tom only tipped the potion back further causing Harry to swallow. At once, a horrible drowsiness was spreading through Harry. His arms already felt tired and he sunk forwards into Tom's steadying embrace.

"Tom, don't- what about tomorrow? I can't sleep now-"

Tom didn't answer as he only positioned Harry gently onto the bed, his hand brushing over Harry's burning scar. It felt soothing to the touch and it was so difficult to concentrate when Tom was lulling him to sleep.

"Everything will be okay, Harry," Tom whispered. "I promise."

Harry tried to respond but his eyes were so heavy. Harry heard Tom step away, his footsteps echoing across the floor.

"I need to speak to-" but Tom's voice faded into nothing.

* * *

Tom couldn't remember the last time Harry looked so peaceful. He was almost envious as Harry slept, chest rising and falling gently as the morning sun beamed through the window. Tom had managed to claw a little sleep himself, but he hadn't been able to settle. He had too much on his mind. Of course, he was ready for this. He had to be, as there was only one way it could end.

Harry took a moment to gain his bearings as he stirred. There was a moment of genuine calm as Harry pulled himself up before noticed Tom who was still sitting on the end of the bed. Tom was expecting it but it still bothered him as Harry's defence went up.

"You drugged me," Harry said as he clenched his fists.

"Yes."

Harry flinched and he tried terribly to hide how much Tom's callous response bothered him. Fortunately, they were saved from an argument as Madam Pomfrey appeared.

"Good, you're awake," she said as Kulung trotted up behind her. "Well at least you're looking better."

Harry jumped at the opportunity as he swung his legs out of bed.

"Lie back down, Potter. You're not going anywhere," Madam Pomfrey said.

"I'm fine," Harry protested.

"You're fine when I say you're fine," Madam Pomfrey said and she pulled out a couple of more potions. "Classes can wait."

Tom lent forwards and pressed his cooling hand to Harry's forehead.

"He is burning up a little," Tom said.

"Mmm, I'm not surprised," she nodded before glancing at Harry with a scowl. "Make sure he takes these, and I'll have the kitchen send some chocolate up."

Tom only smiled as she busied herself back to her office. Harry turned to Tom glaring. He didn't touch any of the potions.

"What happens today?"

But Tom didn't say anything.

"Tom? Is Voldemort going to take the stone today?" Harry asked.

Tom had to tread very carefully. Any slip up would cost them everything. And Tom had already paid the price.

"Voldemort wants my help retrieving the stone," Tom said.

Harry didn't even hesitate. Why would he. Tom already knew what his answer would be.

"No."

Tom crossed his arms.

"Voldemort won't accept that."

"I don't care," Harry said stiffly. "Voldemort can't get his body back. And you said the stone was still protected."

"It is, but that's why Voldemort needs my assistance. Quirrell can't fight the creature alone," Tom said.

"Well that's unlucky for him," Harry said and he leaned back against his pillows and crossed his arms. Harry could be annoying stubborn at times, and Tom knew not even asking a favour would shift his decision.

"So what now, is it your job to keep me quiet until Quirrell can get the stone?" Harry said.

Tom resisted the urge to smile. At least Harry had cottoned on to why he'd shoved a dreamless sleep potion down his throat.

"No," Tom said. "It's my job to keep you safe."

Tom had told Harry this time and time again, but it was still annoying that Harry thought he had no reason to believe him.

"Safe?" Harry said. "Good luck with that. I won't help you get the stone and you won't tell the ministry. It doesn't really leave us with any options that will end well."

Tom tilted his head and he was genuinely curious how Harry was going to react to his next statement.

"There's one option left," Tom said slowly. "We can run."

Harry didn't respond. If anything he looked distinctly unimpressed as he raised his eyebrows. It was horrible how he remained silent, waiting for Tom to offer any sort of explanation.

Tom sighed.

"You asked me to choose, between you and Voldemort. Well, I choose you. Of course I do."

The words sounded stupid, particularly after everything that had happened since the unicorn and it was clear that Harry thought so to. His eyes narrowed and Tom knew his own heart was racing alongside Harry's. It was what Harry wanted to hear. What he needed to hear.

"You wouldn't tell me that in the forest," Harry said as he turned his face away. "So why are you bothering now?"

And then Tom was there, shifting closer on the bed but not quite making contact. Harry didn't realise how easy he was to manipulate without his dæmon. A little tug here, a flicker of the right emotion. It was fascinating. Harry had never been like this before Lyra had left. Even now, Tom could feel Harry's hesitation, his burning desire to withdraw. But Tom had no other choice.

Tom placed his hand in Harry's, and he immediately saw Harry relax slightly, just like last night. The creases fell from Harry's forehead and he even leaned in closer. It really wasn't right, but it had been like this for awhile.

"It's complicated, Harry," Tom said.

By the way Harry was holding himself it looked like he was screaming at himself to pull away. But manipulating people is what Tom did best.

"I'm attached to you and to Voldemort, but you're so different."

Tom wrapped his arms around Harry which only caused Harry to sink into his embrace.

"Voldemort is my own soul, just like Lyra is yours, and I know how much you crave her," Tom said.

"Yes, but Voldemort-" Harry started.

"Is still apart of me," Tom cut across him. "Without Lyra you're not right. Only half of a whole. It's the same for me."

Again Harry tried to hide how much this bothered him, as he looked away. Tom only pulled Harry's gaze back with a gentle tap on his shoulder.

"I can't help who I'm attached to."

Again, Harry instinctively made to pull away, but Tom only coaxed him back as he shifted next to him so he was sitting closer.

"You were fine before you met Voldemort, why do you need him now? It's not like you rely on him," Harry said.

Tom sighed heavily this time.

"Because I didn't know what I was missing," Tom said and then he waved his hand. "But that's not the point. The point is that I still choose you, Harry."

Now Harry actually had the nerve to laugh. His own face twisting into an odd smile as he stared at Tom.

When had Harry got so cold. Tom knew without Lyra he was temperamental at best, but this wasn't right. It wasn't Harry. And that scared Tom more than he would ever admit it.

"You're just lying again," Harry said.

"You think it's impossible to choose another soul over my own?" Tom bit out. "You did it, why is it different for me?"

Harry's gaze snapped to Tom's, his smile disappearing in an instant.

Now Tom knew he had Harry's attention and he withheld his smile.

"I didn't forgot, you know. You said you chose me, that you only wanted me. Right before Lyra left remember?"

Now Harry nodded, before his shoulders sagged. Tom couldn't tell if Harry was relieved or scared.

"Okay, we run."

* * *

Tom was smiling at him, but there was a deep sadness which lingered.

"But you don't think we'll get far?" Harry said.

"Of course we won't," Tom said. "Two first years running from both the Ministry and Voldemort, we won't have a chance."

"But?"

Tom pulled Harry close again.

"But we still have to try. I would rather run and get caught then risk something happening to you."

Harry still thought he had misheard. Tom was saying everything he wanted. But none of it made any sense. Tom was clearly up to something, but it was difficult to disagree when running really looked like their best option. Harry didn't want to leave Hogwarts, but if Quirrell was acting tonight and he managed to gain the stone then Harry wouldn't get a choice in the matter. At least if they ran they would be together, and that was all Harry wanted.

"I heard some older students talking about a passageway, it apparently leads to a building in Hogsmede," Tom said. " It's hidden so no one should find us."

* * *

By mid afternoon, Harry had finally managed to persuade Madam Pomfrey that he was well enough to leave her clutches. However, this only left a short amount of time to prepare, but as Harry dug through his trunk for any essential things to take, he realised he really didn't own that much.

Harry was left with his outdoor cloak, a small pouch full of gold, his wand and a few pumpkin pasties which he had swiped from Ron. The plan was to leave straight after dinner, but it felt odd to be sitting with Ron and Hermione knowing he might not see them again for a long while. Harry even found himself thinking he might miss Draco.

Tom had been trying to encourage him to eat something, but Harry really didn't have an appetite. Their future was so uncertain and it was a daunting enough without trying to force some normality into conversations, let alone try and eat something.

Finally, Tom nodded to Harry.

"Are you done already?" Hermione asked as they both rose from the table.

"We're going to the Library," Harry said.

"Oh, I'll come," Hermione said as Ramiron squeaked. "I was going to read up on the charms homework Professor Flitwick gave us. I picked you up a copy by the way."

"Actually Hermione," Tom smiled, "We were hoping to have some time alone."

Hermione looked between the two of them as she beamed.

"Oh, of course. Have you two made up then?"

Tom only smiled as he started to walk away.

"Something like that."

Harry just hoped it was true, maybe when they left Hogwarts everything would be okay again.

* * *

There was still a little light in the sky as they made their way across the grounds. Tom strode quickly, he was eager to get moving as Harry followed. They stopped before a huge willow tree. It was flailing around violently, and looked like it would attack anyone who approached.

"Are you sure there's a passageway around here?" Harry asked. He glanced back at the castle nervously, but there was no evidence they had been followed.

"Give me your wand," Tom said.

Harry handed it over, as the large tree continued to wave it's large branches around. Tom expertly summoned a nearby branch and it flew across before hitting a small knot at the base of the tree. It happened at once. The large branches stilled.

As they approached the base of the tree, Harry could see a small opening tucked behind a large root. In fact it was so well hidden, anyone who didn't know how to approach the tree would have missed it. The tunnel was small, but Harry and Tom managed to climb down and they were short enough that they didn't have to duck their heads. Harry was already beginning to feel more confident. Surely if they were being followed, someone would have caught up to them by now.

Of course, Harry's comfort wouldn't last long. They must have walked through the tunnel for a good hour before they finally came across the house Tom had mentioned.

"Wait, this is-"

"The place where Voldemort brought us after the trial, yes," Tom said.

An uneasy feeling spread through Harry and his stomach felt like it had flipped upside down.

"It's empty," Tom said and he took Harry's hand as he began to walk up the stairs.

Harry let Tom lead the way, but he really didn't have any desire to explore the old building. Although, from the boarded up windows it looked like they would have to break out somewhere.

There was a single door upstairs and the door stood ajar.

"Tom," Harry said. "We shouldn't stay here long, Quirrell might have realised we've left by now."

"Yes," Tom said quietly. "I imagine he has."

Tom pushed the door further open and stepped into the room. The room was dark, but something was glinting in the corner. Tom drew their wand, but he didn't summon any light. He didn't need to. Harry froze. Terror consuming him as his nightmare became real.

The silver guillotine stood before then. Tall and imposing.

The blade was no longer shattered. Its sharp edge was perfectly in tact, shimmering in the little light the shack had to offer. Now the reason the Death Eaters had stolen the guillotine became horrible apparent.

There was a loud bang as the door behind them slammed shut. Harry jerked around and grabbed the rusty handle, but it was too late.

The door locked shut.

Harry's head erupted in pain as Quirrell emerged from the shadows. Harry had no time to panic as he reacted on instinct.

"You can't touch me," Harry said and he dragged Tom behind him.

Quirrell didn't move, he didn't even raise his wand. Instead the most chilling smile crept onto his face.

And in a moment Harry's world came crashing down. Tom stepped around him, prising Harry's fingers away from his sleeve. He came to a halt beside Quirrell. Wand raised and pointed directly in Harry's face.

"No, he can't," Tom said. "But I can."

Tom's eyes were hard, a cruel expression lingering on his lips.

Harry understood and his heart broke.

"T-Tom?"

Complete silence. Harry tried again, his whole body shaking, tears swelling in his eyes. He struggled to find his voice.

"D-don't you want me anymore?"

But deep down, Harry had already known.

Tom tilted his head and surveyed Harry like he was nothing more than an naïve toy.

"Get in the cage, Harry."

Harry didn't move. He couldn't.

Tom sighed as he twirled their wand around.

"Well, if you insist."

Tom's curse hit Harry.

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open and his scar seared with a sharp burning pain. His eyes focused at once on the mesh like cage and the unforgiving blade. Sharp and glinting as it hung high above him. It stood out against the rotten ceiling, pristine and deadly.

The cage itself was claustrophobic as it enveloped Harry completely. Harry lay frozen as a deep sickness rose in his chest as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

Harry could hear footsteps, but he would not let panic consume him. He'd dreamt of the guillotine. Woken from his suffocating nightmares often enough that he would not be afraid. The footsteps stopped right outside Harry's cage.

"Get up," Tom instructed.

Harry sat up, one knee drawn up to his chest as there was no space to stand. Tom watched him with cold eyes. It was so horribly apparent what had happened as only clear cold resentment was shared between them.

Harry clutched the bars tightly, as he stared across at Tom. He would not be afraid. One small cut, that's all it would take and then Tom would be gone. Harry didn't know what was worse, the actual thing itself, or that fact that Tom had chosen Voldemort.

Harry should have expected it, Tom had all but confirmed it in the forest. Harry had just refused to accept it, he'd hung on because he had to, because without Lyra, Tom was all he had. Harry's heart ached, but he would not show Tom how much it hurt. Tom didn't deserve the satisfaction.

"I get it," Harry said coldly.

Tom shrugged, an amused smile crept onto his face as his eyes scanned Harry almost hungrily.

"I want to be with my own soul again," Tom said.

Of course he did.

"I wasn't enough," Harry said. It wasn't a question, but Tom only hummed as he twirled Harry's wand around absently.

"Maybe once," Tom agreed. "But you're less without Lyra. You're incomplete."

It was like Tom was alien. Everything about him felt wrong, distorted almost. Like when Quirrell had drunk the blood from the unicorn.

Behind Tom, Quirrell was preparing something in a cauldron. His turban had been removed, and Harry could see Voldemort's fierce red eyes and his gruesome face imprinted onto the back of his head. Voldemort was watching them, absorbed in their every interaction. But the horror didn't end there. Harry could also see a few bottles of something that looked like silver blood.

Tom noticed Harry's gaze.

"The unicorn blood should anchor me to life," Tom said. "Our separation will be a clean cut, but there's no harm in a little guarantee."

Tom would still exist, he would be tied to Voldemort instead. Harry however, he could already feel the darkness encroaching in.

As if to rub salt in the wound, Tom tilted his head deliberately, because he knew what Harry was thinking. He raised his voice and called back to Quirrell.

"When I become yours again, what will happen to Harry?" Tom said.

Quirrell only smirked as he continued. However it was Voldemort, whose gaze was locked on them both who answered.

"I will finish what should have been done all those years ago," he hissed.

Voldemort was going to kill him. At least Harry wouldn't live long without Tom, if anything it was reassurance. Harry just hoped it would be quick.

Quirrell paused, clearly sensing something Harry could not.

"It bothers you?" Voldemort hissed.

For the first time, Tom looked away from Harry.

"I have become fond of him, nothing more."

Each word was like a knife being twisted into Harry's gut.

"Attachment's are weak," Voldemort hissed.

"Then why didn't you just let the Ministry separate us before?" Harry said and he raised his voice in Quirrell's direction, anything to distract himself from Tom's piercing gaze. "You could have taken Tom for yourself then."

"No," Tom answered for Voldemort. "If anything had gone wrong, as soon as I was separated from you, the aurors could have aimed to kill and there would have been no consequence. I was safe as long as I was attached to you."

"How convenient," Harry spat.

Voldemort seemed to have become tired of their interactions, for his eyes narrowed.

"Be quiet, child." Voldemort demanded.

Tom only shrugged and stepped away. Now he approached Quirrell who was still making his concoction. Quirrell was stirring the potion carefully now, but Voldemort's eyes followed Tom as he stepped across the room.

The rotten floorboards creaked beneath Tom's feet and Harry was surprised the room hadn't already given way to the weight from the guillotine.

"Is that how you contact your Death Eaters?" Tom asked as he came to stand beside Quirrell.

Quirrell's sleeves were rolled back and Harry could just about see a black mark on his left arm. He looked annoyed at the interruption. Voldemort however was captivated by Tom. Harry could feel Voldemort's intrigue and the desire to take back what was his.

"I had Quirrell mark himself before your trial," Voldemort hissed.

Tom raised his own sleeve and traced his own fingers across his own untainted skin.

"Will you mark me?" Tom asked.

"No," Voldemort hissed. "You are far more than a servant."

Tom seemed pleased about this as he hummed and absently twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. Harry wished he could look away. He didn't want to be dependent on Tom in his final moments, still desperate for some sort of affection which they used to share. He wasn't going to find it.

Harry shut his eyes. If anything to stop Tom from stealing his soul attention. Instead, Harry tried to think of Lyra. He wished she'd never left. Harry could still remember Lyra's light brown fur and her face which was white with darker brown surrounding her eyes.

Harry had spent hours imagining Lyra jumping around or just sitting in his lap, much like her reflection. He'd burnt her into his memories.  
And it gave Harry a weak satisfaction that Tom would never be able to take that from him. Lyra had been his alone. Tom had never even seen her.

A sudden loud noise tore Harry from his memories as his eyes snapped open. Tom was in front of the cage again and he had a rather nasty smile on his face.

"Are you ready, Harry?"

Harry glared at him, but it seemed that whatever Quirrell had been doing was finished. The bottle which contained the silver unicorn blood was now empty and the cauldron was bubbling over.

"Drink," Quirrell instructed to Tom. He held out a full vial of silver. "And get in the cage."

It sickened Harry to see Tom bow his head. To submit in a single gesture. Harry's hands clutched the bars.

Tom didn't move, and Harry knew Tom had truly decided that Harry was worthless. Harry wanted to hate him, wished that he could stop himself from caring, but their connection was still so strong. Like a lifeline that Harry couldn't let go.

"Just get on with it," Harry said.

If he was angry enough, maybe it would stop hurting. Maybe it would be over before Harry lost his resolve. Maybe he would be able to picture Lyra again.

Tom trailed their wand across the bars as his expression flicked in something more sinister.

"Are you tempted?" Voldemort hissed to Tom.

Tom tilted his head and Harry could feel his simmering curiosity, but he didn't move his wand. Harry forced down his rising sickness. Tom used to protect him, not dream of inflicting pain.

"My Lord," Quirrell said. "We should not delay."

But Harry could feel Voldemort's simmering hate and knew that taking Tom from him was not enough.

"It would be a shame if Potter didn't suffer first," Voldemort hissed, as his horrible slit eyes focused onto Tom.

Tom however, didn't move. Instead, he only held Harry's gaze.

"You want me to hurt, Harry?" Tom asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Voldemort did not offer him an answer.

Tom leveled the wand.

Harry glared at him, almost daring Tom to actually go through with it. Cursing him would be nothing in comparison to what Tom had already done. Harry's Tom would never have placed him in the guillotine.

"Do it now," Voldemort hissed.

Instead, Tom lowered the wand and he reached forwards to grip the mesh of the cage. A sad smile crossed his face, and never before had Harry seen Tom's eyes so full of hurt. Tom didn't say anything. He didn't need to. Harry could feel Tom's longing and his desperation to connect.

Harry had felt hollow for weeks, lost from Tom in every sense. And now, in an instant, horrible understanding chilled Harry to the bone.

"Tom-" Harry flung himself at the mesh. He made a grab for Tom's hand but there was nothing Harry could do.

Tom stepped back and spun their wand fast, curse flashing red as Quirrell reacted to counter it. But he was too slow. Harry grabbed his scar, it was intense. On fire. He cried out, but it the pain wouldn't stop.

Quirrell's wand lay metres away.

"You fool! What are you doing?" Quirrell said, and he made to advance towards Tom.

But at a sharp curse from Tom, which narrowly missed Quirrell's arm, halted his movements. Tom's laugh was cold and unforgiving, his eyes so terrifying.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Tom's eyes flashed and a cruel smile curled onto his face. "I'm protecting what is mine."

Harry's heart twisted.

"You can have the boy-" Voldemort hissed.

"Don't lie," Tom snapped as dark red sparks shot from his wand. "You may be able to fool anyone else, but not me. Don't you dare try and fool me. You have every reason to keep Harry alive. That was your one chance to gain my unwavering loyalty, but you never even considered it. To you there was no other option but to destroy Harry. And I want to know why?"

Tom's words cut straight through Harry, but there was nothing Harry could do as he jerked against his prison.

"You are ignorant," Voldemort hissed. "The boy must die, that is all you need to know."

Tom's expression slipped into a chilling smile.

"Yes, it is."

Tom was quick and his wand flashed and then Quirrell was screaming as he writhed on the floor. Harry cried out, his scar fierce as he felt something warm and wet trickle down his face.

Tom's curse deceased immediately, concern now seeping straight into Harry's core. But Tom would not be distracted.

"I am disgusted that I am anything attached to you, you are nothing, a mere spirit with no body, no power," Tom said.

"I have power," Voldemort hissed. "You would be nothing without me, trapped in the hands of my enemies."

Tom stepped closer to Quirrell who had managed to compose himself. He stood, still unarmed as Tom leveled his wand.

"And if Potter doesn't want you anymore? You pushed the boy away, why are you worth anything to him?"

That fear again, fleeting but so true. Tom didn't answer, how could he. But Voldemort had lost his patience.

"Cease him," Voldemort hissed.

Quirrell didn't even get a chance to move. Tom was quick, Quirrell's wand went flying further away with one easy flick. But it didn't matter. Quirrell didn't need his wand. Instead Quirrell pressed his finger sharply onto the mark sketched into his skin. Harry's scar erupted and he screamed, hands pressing to his forehead in an attempt for some relief.

Cracks filled the air and with it all remaining hope vanished. Death Eaters. Black figures without their daemon materialised and they all had their wands raised.

Harry rattled his prison, but there was nothing he could do. Voldemort was screaming, hissing orders as Tom was surrounded. It didn't matter how fast Tom acted, his skill was nowhere near sufficient against the number of Death Eaters.

This couldn't be how it ended. Not now. But there was little Harry could do. The remaining energy Harry had, evaporated in an instant the moment Tom was held.

Harry's limbs went slack as the wind from his lungs dissipated. His head was spinning as he wanted to scream and shout. To condemn them for doing what was forbidden. And then Tom was in the other cage. It locked shut, but Harry had no relief.

The fear was overwhelming, but now, the fact Tom had switched without any indication only added to the confusion. If Harry hadn't felt Tom's screaming sincerity, he would have believed it only be another trick.

"You'll regret that," Quirrell spat as he walked up the bars backwards. He had retrieved his wand from the floor.

Tom's mouth slipped into a smile.

"Will I?"

For the first time a flash of uncertainty crossed Quirrell's face.

"Your mark," Tom said and he pressed himself against the cage, teeth bared, totally delirious. "It destroys wards doesn't it? That's how your Death Eaters got in?"

Voldemort's red eyes flashed.

"What have you done?" he demanded.

Tom's smile only widened as he winked at Harry. It was almost instant. Not even a minute after the Death Eaters had arrived.

Another series of loud cracks went off around the room, and Harry jumped back in his cage. Red robes. Dozens of them, spread throughout the room.

Harry had never been more pleased to see the Aurors, wands out and spells flying.

Quirrell cried out as he spun his wand furiously. He shouted commands towards the Death Eaters. There was a mass of black and red as curses shot through the room.

Harry could do nothing but watch. He recognised the witch from the ministry. Her Jack Rabbit was darting through the curses straight towards their cage.

Dumbledore was in the fray too, and Quirrell seemed to target him as the battle erupted. It was the same for Scrimgeour as the auror weaved through the most able targets to secure ground. The Death Eaters held an advantage for they had no daemons to identify them and the aurors had to weave carefully as their own dæmons dodged deadly curses.

And then the witch was right outside Harry's cage. Her back was exposed yet her dæmon cried out in warning. She ducked and narrowly missing the curse as she flicked her wand.

The cage clicked open and Harry didn't hesitate. He threw himself forwards and scrambled out. The witch grabbed his wrist and pulled Harry away from the guillotine.

"Tom-" Harry started, but his voice died in this throat. No sooner had he taken two steps away did something go horribly wrong.

Beside him, he heard the witch gasp. Harry's arm was ripped out of her grip, before her whole body was flung away from Harry in one powerful incantation.

Quirrell was right beside him and he lunged forwards. Hands enclosed tight around Harry's neck.

Harry couldn't breathe.

"Stand down," Quirrell screamed.

Harry gasped, scrabbling as his body thrashed as Quirrell held him in a choking hold.

Harry could hear Tom calling his name. Although maybe he only imagined it. Lights flashed before his eyes, but Harry couldn't tell if it was the curses from the battle, or just his own vision as he struggled for oxygen.

But Quirrell was screaming, and almost as soon as it had started, his grip loosened. Harry fell to the floor and graspt at his throat, desperate for some release.

Cracks echoed throughout the room. They were loud and obnoxious as they popped into Harry's ears.

And then Quirrell and Voldemort were gone and the pain from Harry's scar diminished in instant.

"The room is secure, sir," a voice called out.

There were hurried footsteps and someone gripped Harry shoulder. A wand with a light flashed into Harry's face. Harry blinked, and tried to bat it away.

"Tonks?" Scrimgeour's guff voice spoke out.

"Potter is safe, sir."

Harry's vision blinked in and out of focus. He could see the witch who had been flung away from him was okay. She was knelt before him, dæmon by her side as she scanned her wand across Harry's throat.

"Alastor?" Scrimgeour continued.

"Riddle is contained," a gruff voice spoke out.

Harry's heart froze. Tom was still locked in the cage.

Harry scrabbled up, but Tonks held him back. Harry wanted to call out, say something, but his throat was still burning.

Tom wasn't looking at him, instead his gaze was cold as he flicked between Dumbledore and Scrimgeour.

"You promised," Tom hissed as he shook the bars.

Dumbledore stepped closer, but he didn't say anything. It was Scrimgeour who only needed to nod his head.

Half a dozen wands locked straight onto Tom.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Wand light shone around the room, casting shadows across the dusted corners and revealing the extent of the damage that the battle had caused. The shack had been torn apart and large holes decorated its walls. The cauldron which Quirrell had been hunched over was lying cracked open and the fire beneath it had been extinguished.

Tom however, was still crammed into the cage and even though his face showed nothing but anger, Harry could feel every heart beat and every ounce of fear.

An auror hobbled up beside Scrimgeour.

"We should just finish this," Moody said. His blue eye spun once in its socket before it came to rest on Tom.

Tom was truly at their mercy.

"You can't-" Tom started.

"No Dark Lord, no deal." Scrimgeour said.

"What do you think Voldemort will do to me if I ever wanted to return to him?" Tom hissed. "Do you think he would let me keep Harry?"

There was silence, apart from the sound of Nala hissing. Harry desperately wanted Tom to look at him, at least acknowledge that what had happened really had. That Tom's intention had never been to leave.

But aside from Tonks who was steadying Harry, not even the auror's glanced his way.

"To buy your loyalty, yes," Scrimgeour said.

Tom slammed his fists against the mesh.

"Do you not think I would have taken that option if it were available?" Tom said. "If I thought for even a second I could convince Voldemort to let me and Harry stay together-"

Scrimgeour laughed, and he really did look ruthless. His cut from the battle at the ministry had healed into a nasty looking scar. Dumbledore however, pocketed his own wand and he shook his head.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Tom, Scrimgeour," Dumbledore said. "Voldemort would never have spared Harry. Tom had no other option but to seek our help."

"You don't know that," Scrimgeour said.

Dumbledore smiled sadly.

"There are other things that drive Voldemort desire to kill Harry. Even if Tom does not know the reasons, he would certainly be able to feel Voldemort's intentions."

Tom's head snapped to Dumbledore at this.

"You know why Voldemort wants Harry dead?" Tom said.

But Dumbledore didn't offer any explanation, in fact it seemed that Scrimgeour knew as well for he laughed again.

"That hardly has any relevance now. Potter is only a child," Scrimgeour said.

"And yet Voldemort has already acted on it," Dumbledore said. "And will act again."

But it seemed Scrimgeour could not been convinced and suddenly the guillotine was just as terrifying, hanging above. Tom had also come to the same conclusion.

"You know what will become of Harry without me-" Tom's voice died in his throat. Raw pain ricocheted through Harry. It was intense, like Harry had forgotten what it was like to really feel Tom. To know that he was there unconditionally, uncensored and with that desperate longing to connect.

"Riddle has a point," the wizard with a lynx dæmon said. And he like Dumbledore lowered his wand.

"I don't care if he has a point, Kingley," Scrimgeour said. "I did not agree to this. Riddle was collaborating with the enemy, same with Potter. I have more then a good reason to deal with them appropriately."

"There is no need, Rufus. Our opportunity for separating Harry and Tom has long past. We have discussed this," Dumbledore said.

Harry thought he had misheard. But Tom didn't flinch, he didn't even look surprised. So what had changed.

Moody grunted and he looked distinctly unimpressed while Scrimgeour only glanced across at Harry.

"Contain them at the ministry until we've sorted this mess out," Scrimgeour said.

"Scrimgeour-" Dumbledore started.

"Do it now. And prepare the guillotine for transportation."

The auror's started to move, but Harry only had eyes for Tom.

The cage door clicked unlocked and Tom slipped out. It was only then Tom finally turned to Harry.

Tom stepped forwards but he didn't get very far as a number of auror's raised their wands again. Even their dæmons were crouched low, ready to attack at the slightest instruction.

Harry could feel Tom's desperation but he didn't even get time to speak. Moody gripped Tom firmly and Harry collapsed into Tonks arms.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Tonks said as she twisted on the spot.

Apparating was horrible. Harry had only done it a couple of times before but this time was worse because Moody was holding Tom. Harry landed, and he would have fallen if it hadn't been for Tonks. She held an arm around Harry's shoulder as his vision spun.

"Place Riddle in a holding cell," Scrimgeour said gruffly. "And tell the Minister I'll be with him in two minutes."

Moody let go of Tom and Harry staggered out of Tonks' hold. Tonks' Jack Rabbit started bouncing down a corridor Harry didn't recognise, as Tonks tried to encourage Harry to move.

Harry followed numbly, hyper aware that Tom was right behind him. They were led down several narrow passageways until they came to a row of heavy looking doors.

Harry stepped inside and his stomach gave a horrible jolt as he noticed that chains lined the walls.

Moody had his wand pressed firmly into Tom's back. His leg clunked across the stone floor as he marched Tom up to the wall. The chains reacted at once, reaching out as they enclosed around Tom's wrists and ankles.

And for one fleeting moment, Harry thought he would also be chained to the wall, but Moody only hobbled by him before pausing at the door.

"Are you coming, Potter?" Moody grunted.

Tom took a step forwards but the chains held him back.

"Harry-" Tom started.

"Don't-"

Harry needed to think, he needed space to breathe. He was almost relieved that Tom couldn't approach. Tom had proven that he could influence Harry's own emotions and Harry needed to be able to do this on his own. Without any distractions.

But Tom was filled with an urgency that flooded into Harry's own desires.

"Harry please, there was no other way."

Harry desperately wanted to trust Tom, it would be easy. Everything would go back to how it was. But how could he, after all the lies. After Tom had put him in the guillotine himself. The Tom he cared for would never have done that. Never.

"I had to-"

"Just stop it, stop it."

Harry pushed his own hands to his ears as if this would help his horrible buzzing thoughts organise themselves. Tom could just be playing games again. He was capable.

But Harry could feel Tom again. Like really feel him. It was just them. Together. He wished he could stop shaking. Had Tom really shut himself off knowing that Harry had been drowning without Lyra. When he needed him more than ever.

"Harry don't-"

But Harry only turned and walked away.

* * *

A couple of auror's had positioned themselves outside their cell. Tonks tried to offer Harry an encouraging smile but Harry didn't find any reason to return it.

There was a room opposite and Harry followed Moody in. If it wasn't for Dumbledore sitting on a wooden chair inside, Harry would have thought they were going to lock them up separately.

"Thank you, Alastor," Dumbledore said.

Moody only grunted and hobbled out the room. Dumbledore gestured to a chair but Harry didn't take it. Instead he remained standing by the door as his own heart twisted something painful.

"What will happen to me without Tom-" Harry's voice caught in his throat.

Harry hated how tired he sounded and how Dumbledore observed him, the headmaster's blue eyes twinkled as Dumbledore peered over his spectacles.

"The truth can be a cruel thing, Harry," Dumbledore said.

"And I have a right to know," Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, but perhaps when you are older. For now, I would not dwell on it."

Harry stepped forwards, thoroughly furious.

"But you were prepared to before," Harry said. "Whatever fate would have taken me, you still put me in the guillotine the first time. What changed?"

Dumbledore didn't even flinch at Harry's raised voice, instead it infuriated Harry that Dumbledore remained as calm as always.

"When your dæmon left initially, it increased the danger to yourself significantly," Dumbledore said. "But I believed your dæmon would have returned to you, that she would have saved you in time."

"That still doesn't answer my question," Harry snapped.

"Lyra hasn't returned, Harry," Dumbledore said gravely. "She is now far away, and if we separated you and Tom she won't be able to find you in time. It would be too late."

"But Neville didn't have a dæmon?" Harry said. "And he's okay."

"Neville is very fortunate. He was younger, and it was before his dæmon had appeared and fully developed."

"Quirrell then?" Harry said.

"Professor Quirrell has Lord Voldemort sustaining him, and is in a similar position to yourself. If Lord Voldemort decided to leave then I imagine he too would would also fall."

Harry clenched his fists, he wanted to lash out and get an answer. But Dumbledore didn't look like he could be convinced.

"So why do you think it will happen to me?" Harry bit out.

Dumbledore sighed and he took off his glasses to wipe them on his robes. He looked tired.

"Because it always happens, Harry. No matter what. And we have gambled with your future too often. From your deterioration this year, it has only been because of Tom that you have survived."

Harry's stomach coiled at this.

"Tom didn't do anything," he said. "He didn't care what happened to me."

Dumbledore placed his glasses back onto his crooked nose.

"Now, Harry. You can't really believe that?" he said.

Of course Harry could. Tom had put him in the guillotine. Harry didn't even want to think about it. Instead he nodded, because he thought he would be sick if he tried to answer.

Dumbledore lent forwards and placed his hands together.

"Tom acted solely for you. Every action was to keep you safe," Dumbledore said.

"You don't know that," Harry snapped.

Dumbledore only responded by pulling out a piece of parchment from his robes. He unfolded it and handed it to Harry.

"Tom wrote to me," Dumbledore said.

It was definitely Tom's writing, hurried and scrawled.

"When-?" Harry started and then he remembered.

Harry's hands were shaking as he read, chest pounding horribly tight.

_Professor,_

_A letter will not convey the urgency in which I write to you, but I am at a loss. We are being watched and I dare not step out of line._

_Harry is in so much danger. And so, despite our differences and the risk to myself, I have to believe that you have Harry's safety solely at heart._

_You said it yourself, I am not the one controlling my Death Eaters, which begs the question who is?_

_I will not condemn Harry to a life locked up but his fate will be far worse in the hands of his enemies._

_To put it simply, when the time comes Harry will need your help. I will need your help. I cannot tell you the details, or we may lose the one opportunity to gain visibility of the guillotine. I have to remain loyal or we will be taken and there will be nothing to stop our separation. The guillotine must be found._

_I will give you the one responsible if I can remain immune from any further ministry investigations. I understand that you will be reluctant, but if you consider this to apply until myself and Harry have graduated Hogwarts, that is all I ask. Harry will be free to choose his own path without interference._

_Also, if you would permit it, Harry would like to stay with friends during the summer. I trust this is acceptable?_

_Tom Riddle_

Harry's fingers crumpled the edges as tears fell on the parchment. There was so much confusion, but at the same time clear ruthless understanding.

Harry wanted to tear up the letter. Tom had betrayed Voldemort and all this time, Tom had been fighting for Harry.

This was why Dumbledore had barely blinked when the unicorn had been killed. This was why Dumbledore hadn't thrown them to the mercy of Scrimgeour and why Harry's wand wasn't being checked as promised. Everything was because of Tom. Controlling everything behind the scenes.

"Tom was right to draw out the guillotine. It ensures your bond can never be broken if you ever were to fall into the hands of Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said.

But Harry could only read the letter again. Heart pounding in his ears. It was horrible how everything made sense but at the same time only more questions were buzzing in Harry's head.

"Why did you agree?" Harry's voice barely held.

"Before Tom's trial, I was convinced that he was solely Lord Voldemort." Dumbledore said. "It was only afterwards did I realise that Tom was only a piece." He was watching Harry carefully for a reaction, but Harry only felt numb as he stood there.

"Oh, so Tom wasn't a threat anymore?" Harry said.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Certainly not the main threat, but regardless, it is encouraging to see Voldemort's soul turning on himself."

Harry didn't know what to say to this. He really needed to talk to Tom but he didn't know if he wanted to yet.

Instead Harry rubbed his neck, hoping it would distract him from the horrible chill which was seeping through his body. His neck was still a little sore, but Quirrell had apparated away before he had done any lasting damage.

"How come Quirrell can't touch me?" Harry asked.

Harry thought he wouldn't get an answer, so he was surprised when Dumbledore only smiled.

"When your mother died, she gave you the greatest protection she could offer." Dumbledore said. "Her sacrifice prevents Lord Voldemort from killing you, even touching you. And as Professor Quirrell has decided to share his soul with Voldemort he is unable to harm you either."

Harry was stunned.

"My mother died to save me? But why did Voldemort want to kill me in the first place?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"That is a question for when you are older."

Harry head was pounding, although his scar itself was oddly peaceful.

Dumbledore stood abruptly and moved to open the door.

"Tom is better with you, Harry. I would not push him away for long."

"You just don't want whatever fate to take me," Harry said bitterly.

"Very true," Dumbledore nodded. "But it also doesn't do us well to drive our dæmons away."

Harry stared at Dumbledore tiredly, unsure what to think about this. Harry would never be able to forgive Dumbledore for placing him inside the guillotine, which also lead to the question, could Harry forgive Tom?

* * *

Tom was watching the door when Harry walked in, and his relief was almost overwhelming.

"How long?" Harry hated how his voice wavered. "How long have you known Voldemort was going to separate us?"

Tom stepped forwards but his chains were taut and held him firmly in place. Harry could feel Tom's pain. It was so fresh, like Harry had forgotten their connection. But Harry was determined to not give in to it, and so he lent against the far wall as his legs shook uncontrollably.

"Harry, are you okay-"

"How long?" Harry snapped. His voice stronger this time as he glared at Tom. Of course he wasn't okay.

Every feeling from Tom was screaming in concern, and Harry shut his eyes briefly, if only so he didn't have to look at him.

"Immediately," Tom said. "Voldemort's intentions towards you were only malicious."

Harry's head spun. Tom had told him time and time again that Voldemort was their only way at staying together.

Tom sighed, and for the first time in months Harry could see Tom. There was no hard exterior and no stiffness between them. Now Tom only looked exhausted, his stance desperate to reach out and for Harry to believe him. But how could he.

"You lied," Harry said.

Tom nodded and he did not look ashamed as his eyes bore into Harry.

"I had to, I needed to behave as Voldemort expected, do everything as instructed." Tom said. "Voldemort does not care for you, so why should I? Aside from anchoring me to life, you were nothing but a tool and something I could use to gain what I wanted, when I wanted."

Harry had wanted the truth but it burned. Tom pulled against his chains, frustrated that he could not approach.

"Voldemort had to believe I wanted him, Harry," Tom continued his voice barely a whisper. "Or he would never have let us return to Hogwarts. Voldemort would have left immediately and taken us, without hesitation and without the stone. And in the hands of Voldemort and contained by his Death Eaters they would have shown you no mercy."

It seemed like Tom had been desperate to tell Harry and to make him understand. But it was hard to find any amount of sympathy or compassion to his explanations.

"How was any of this your decision to make?" Harry snapped. "You should have told me, why didn't you tell me?"

It was almost worse than Tom choosing Voldemort. At least then, Harry would have known where he stood and that Tom was against him. But the fact that Tom had chosen him all along and had still kept secrets only hurt more.

"Voldemort is a master of reading minds," Tom said with a very sad smile. "And you are connected to Voldemort. If you'd have known, he'd have known. How do you think Voldemort knew that I told you about the stone? He was obsessed. Voldemort spent every waking second watching us and digging at our link. If you'd have felt any amount of reassurance from me, Voldemort would have never trusted me. We would have been silenced."

Harry had a retort ready but it fell on his lips as another sour taste was filling his mouth.

"You used Occlumency against Voldemort?" Harry said.

Tom shook his head hurriedly.

"No, Voldemort trusted me and had no need to press into my mind. And even if he did, I barely thought on my actions, I never let my intentions linger. But Voldemort was still watching every emotion. Do you remember when the mirror disappeared? He found us instantly."

Harry did remember but that didn't make him feel any better.

"But you said Occlumency would have stopped my scar hurting, you said you could block Voldemort out?" Harry countered. "Why didn't you? You could have told me then!"

Now Tom fixed Harry with a very hard stare.

"Do you remember the first time I tried it?" Tom said.

Of course Harry did. It had been almost as bad as when Quirrell touched Tom. Tom had cut himself off completely.

"I thought it would help but I separated us, just for a second and I dared not do it again. I couldn't."

Harry could feel Tom's fear, it was intense, and Harry almost wanted to turn away again. He needed his own thoughts and his own emotions, not this horrible mixture of the two.

"But Voldemort wanted you to learn?" Harry said.

Tom nodded.

"Of course he did. He wanted me to distance myself from you, he wanted you to suffer. And so-"

"And so I suffered," Harry whispered. "Otherwise Voldemort would have wanted to know why you weren't pushing me away."

Tom didn't say anything because it was clearly true.

They fell into an awkward silence. Tom had hurt Harry deliberately and without hesitation. Even though the guillotine was now secure and their bond safe, it wasn't enough.

Harry ran his hands over his face. He wanted to break down and give in. He could have Tom back so easily but it wouldn't be right, no matter how much he ached for it. Something had changed beyond repair.

"Fine then, what about the unicorn blood? You were going to drink it." Harry said.

"Anything," Tom stressed as his chains clinked. "I would do anything to keep you safe. One action out of place and Voldemort would have known. I had to be perfect or he would never have trusted me to bring you to the guillotine."

"And if we'd have told the ministry about Quirrell, it wouldn't have mattered. Voldemort would have found a way to take us anyway. We wouldn't be together anymore," Harry finished.

Harry turned away from Tom. He had his answers but that didn't make things easier. If anything it only made Harry feel worse.

"Harry-"

* * *

Harry wouldn't even look at him. Maybe Tom had pushed it too far.

Tom had torn Harry apart and now he had to hope Harry would let him piece him back together. But Harry was strong. There was evidence for that.

Tom had known Harry was lacking and that he had been manipulated agaisnt his own will. Harry was unstable without Lyra, particularly as he had had no time to adjust before Tom had pulled him in too deep. But Tom would have done the same again. It had been the only way to give them any sort of security.

Harry slumped further against the back wall and turned his head further away. It shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. Tom expected it and he knew that Harry would not forgive him. How could he even ask without it being an insult. But he still had to try.

"Please, Harry. Just come here."

But Harry didn't move. He didn't even look tempted. And that disturbed Tom more than anything. Would Harry chose not to keep him. Would he really turn the other way.

"You promised me," Tom's voice was stiff and his voice oddly empty of emotion, but Tom knew Harry could feel his racing heart. "You said you would remember."

Tom had said the same back in the forest but Harry still didn't show any sign of any recollection.

"I told you I would always choose you," Tom said hurriedly. "After the trial, when we were walking back to Hogwarts. I knew then what I had to do."

Surely Harry would remember.

"Funnily enough your actions said otherwise."

It was brutishly true.

Tom fixed Harry with a very hard stare. Harry wasn't meant to have gone through this alone. Sure, Tom had done questionable things, but did Harry really genuinely believe that Tom could have done anything but chose Harry. There was no comparison. And it hurt. Had Tom really driven Harry that far away.

"You actually believed me?" Tom said. He hoped that Harry had always known. That he'd guessed Tom had been trapped playing Voldemort's games. But it had just been a stupid hope with no subsidence to back it up. And Tom asking Harry to remember, that was just an excuse so that Harry couldn't be mad at Tom.

"You were pretty convincing," Harry said.

At least Harry was talking again. Yet he still didn't even glance in Tom's direction. Tom just needed that connection, that one opportunity for Harry to know how much he cared.

"I thought you knew me better then that," Tom said quietly.

"That was before you put me in the guillotine," Harry said.

Tom's panic was rising. Harry obviously noticed, for he finally at least looked up.

"Look, Tom. I get why you did it but that doesn't mean I'm okay with you. What did you expect?"

Tom's stomach twisted under Harry's gaze. Harry's green eyes were brimming with not pain but just totally confusion and loss.

"Pretty much this," Tom said.

Harry looked away again and it almost destroyed Tom then and there as he yanked against his chains.

"So just leave me alone," Harry said.

"Harry-"

"Maybe I don't want you anymore."

The words burned into Tom's head. It was like icicles had stabbed into his heart.

"Don't you dare say that," Tom hissed and he dug his nails into his own palms as he struggled. He needed Harry. After everything he had sacrificed, he couldn't lose Harry now.

"You said it," Harry said and again he looked up.

Tom nearly melted under Harry's gaze.

"But I didn't mean it," Tom whispered. How could he ever have meant it.

There was a cold edge to Harry's expression which Tom had never seen before. In fact Harry looked almost mad as a cold smirk crossed his face.

"Well I do."

Tom couldn't accept it, he wouldn't.

"You're just saying that," Tom said. "You just want to hurt me."

Harry tilted his head and his expression remained unchanged from his cold exterior.

"Is it working?" Harry said.

"Yes."

And now Harry stepped forwards so he was just out of reach. Tom wanted the ground to swallow him up.

"If I get rid of you, what will happen to me?"

Tom bit his lip. He would have answered anything but that. Anything. For the truth was too horrific.

"Harry, I can't tell you-"

Harry snapped.

"You're still hiding things from me, even now!"

"Anything but that," Tom shook his head.

"That's not good enough."

Of course it wasn't, but how could Tom face what had nearly happened. What could still happen.

"You put me in the guillotine after everything that had happened. I at least deserve an explanation. Stop hiding things from me, I'm sick of it."

"I did everything to protect you," Tom said as his own voice broke. "Everything was so we could be together. No matter what the cost."

"Well maybe your cost was too high."

Tom's gaze shot up and he was surprised to find Harry even closer.

"Why should I care what the Ministry does to you?" Harry said.

"Finally, the boy is talking sense," Moody said.

Harry had been so absorbed in Tom that he hadn't even noticed the door opening. He looked startled as he turned around. Scrimgeour, Nala, Moody, the Minister and his dæmon entered.

Tom pulled against his chains, he could not lose Harry. Not now.

* * *

Harry watched warily as the others entered the small holding cell. It seemed they had come to some sort of agreement and Scrimgeour's scowling face gave no indication if it was good or not. The Minister's bulldog was eyeing Tom up but unlike Nala she remained quiet.

"Collaborating with the Dark Lord is punishable to life in Azkaban," Scrimgeour said.

Harry's breath caught in his throat. Tom's anger also flared up as he yanked against his restraints. Nala hissed at him her back arching, but Tom ignored her.

"Harry doesn't have a dæmon," Tom spat. "You know it was entirely my influence. If Harry was whole, he would never of cooperated with Voldemort."

None of the others responded to this. Scrimgeour instead gave Tom a very pointed stare before he continued.

"However, given these extreme circumstances and with severe restrictions, you will be allowed to return to Hogwarts."

Harry couldn't believe it and his mouth actually dropped open in shock.

"And Tom?" Harry asked.

"Riddle will be accompanying you," Scrimgeour said gruffly.

Harry thought he had misheard and even Tom was surprised.

Fudge stepped forwards and his dæmon moved by his side obediently as Fudge cleared his throat.

"Mr Riddle, your cooperation regarding the whereabouts of the Dark Lord would be very much appreciated. If you have any information?"

Harry watched as Tom stood back. Harry thought Tom would refuse, so he was surprised when Tom nodded his head.

"Fine," Tom said. "However, I want your promise that you will treat me separate from Voldemort from now on. That means I'm acquitted from all his crimes."

There was a long pause.

Harry expected Scrimgeour to immediately decline, to laugh in their faces, so he was surprised when the auror only looked to the Minister.

Fudge looked torn and his dæmon skirted around his feet.

"That is not a good idea," Moody grumbled.

However, for whatever reason Fudge didn't need any convincing.

"Agreed."

Harry couldn't believe it. The Ministry had every reason to lock them up even if they didn't plan on separating them.

Harry would have pressed further but he didn't want Fudge to change his mind.

"Quirrell met Voldemort-" Fudge's dæmon actually jumped at this, and Tom only rolled his eyes. "In the forest of Albania, although I'm sure you already knew this."

Tom looked across at Scrimgeour who only nodded curtly.

"We had our suspicions, but it was unconfirmed."

"As for Voldemort's location now, I don't know. Although I have a my suspicions for what he will do next," Tom said.

Moody looked unconvinced but Fudge looked positively delighted.

"Voldemort will gather his most faithful Death Eaters-" Tom started.

"The Dark Lord hasn't done so previously," Scrimgeour said curtly. "He had a whole year, so why would he do this now?"

"Because Voldemort was forced out into the open and now everyone knows how horribly weak he is. He has to act fast and so he will strike Azkaban, regain his old support as quickly as possible."

Every face in the room paled, even Harry felt some amount of dread. He remembered reading that most of Voldemort's most loyal followers were locked up there.

"Let him try," Moody growled.

"Voldemort will also try and regain his body. He failed with the Philosopher's stone, but he not stop there," Tom said. "All of his other plans are secondary."

It was unnerving how Tom sounded so confident.

"He may try and get to me and Harry," Tom added quietly. "However, if we reside in Hogwarts the control of the Ministry will have to come first. But only after he has secured his body and his most loyal followers will Voldemort attempt to strike at the core."

Harry waited breath held, but apparently this was enough.

Fudge nodded, and Scrimgeour raised his wand to unchain Tom from the wall.

* * *

Harry could barely believe they were back on the Hogwarts grounds. The sky was dark now as they trudged back up the castle.

Tom was brimming with a mixture of delirious relief and pounding nerves. He kept shooting glances in Harry's direction but Harry wasn't ready. Not yet.

"Of course it would be you again," Madam Pomfrey said as Dumbledore lead them back into the Hospital Wing. "I knew I should never have let you out of my sight."

This time Harry didn't need persuading as he sunk down onto a bed. He didn't even complain when Madam Pomfrey set down a number of potions and began checking over his neck.

Satisfied that Harry wasn't going anywhere, Dumbledore started to take his leave.

"Sir?" Harry said.

There was something that was still bothering Harry, but he was sure it was true.

"You argued for me and Tom to return to school, why?" Harry said.

Harry was getting sick of Dumbledore's smile as the headmaster paused briefly at the door.

"Perhaps another day, Harry."

Tom frowned and it seemed like he for once was also in the dark.

"There's a dreamless sleep potion," Madam Pomfrey instructed as Kulung nudged the bottle with his nose. But Harry didn't want it. He couldn't sink into oblivion yet.

"I'll check on you in ten minutes and you better be asleep," Madam Pomfrey said before she made her way back to her office.

And then they were alone.

Tom until now, had been hovering at the end of Harry's bed. He'd kept his distance all the way up to the castle too but Harry had been too exhausted to care.

Tom looked unsure of what to do, so he took a hesitant step forwards.

"Harry-"

"I swear, if you lie to me again-" Harry interrupted. He didn't want anymore excuses. What had been done had been done and now they both had to live with the consequences.

"I won't," Tom said.

Harry took a steadying breath.

"And I still don't forgive you."

"I'm not asking for you to forgive me," Tom said hurriedly.

Harry's chest swelled, this only made it more difficult.

"Plus as soon as I find Lyra, I'm totally getting rid of you."

Tom choked and a sad smile tugged at his lips as a tear fell down his cheek. Harry stared. Tom was rarely sad but never did he cry.

Tom stepped forwards slowly and each footstep closed the gap between. He sat down beside Harry and Tom tentatively moved his hand to grip Harry's hand.

Harry didn't even react. He just sat there numbly. Tom's contact wasn't comfort, it was just raw sadness and pain.

Harry wanted to cry and scream and shout. He wanted to push Tom away. But it was too much. They'd been apart too long and not just tonight. Harry just wished he could stop shaking and that he could stop the tears threatening to fall down his face.

"I hate you," Harry muttered, and then he was on his knees. Tom fell onto the floor too, arms wrapped around him as his forehead pressed against Harry's.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I will never let you go again, I swear it."

If only it could stop hurting.

* * *

The next few weeks went by in a blur and Harry found himself feeling better than he had in months. He no longer felt disconnected and even his exhaustion had turned into a long distant memory.

But the biggest change by far was Tom. He hadn't left Harry's side. He'd been there regarding every concern and every nightmare.

It had been overwhelming at first but Tom had assured Harry he just needed time to adjust now he had a proper dæmon again. And that was certainly true. The last time Harry had felt this complete was when he had stood in front of the mirror of erised.

Harry's detentions had also ended, and Tom had gone to great lengths to complain about Dumbledore.

"He knew we were being watched," Tom said. "It's not like we could have done anything else but cooperate."

But Harry had hardly seen Dumbledore, even at dinner and the fact that Quirrell had been supporting Voldemort had also been hushed. There had been no explanation to the sudden lack of Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.

"I guess the Ministry don't want more panic," Hermione offered when they were studying one night. "If they pretend Tom is Voldemort then it's a lot less scary isn't it?"

"I don't know," Ron said as he flicked open a charms textbook. "Tom can be scary enough."

Tom flashed his teeth at this which only caused Sephronia to disappear behind Ron's back.

They were spread around the comfy chairs in the common room. Ramiron was on Hermione's shoulder and he seemed disinterested in the conversation as he peered down at her textbook. Harry was currently leaning into Tom's shoulder as he attempted to read a potions book.

However, it was difficult to concentrate. The amount of homework that Harry had somehow managed to accumulate was ridiculous. It seemed that when he had been unwell his teachers had been very lenient. Harry hadn't even noticed and now he had to try and catch up before the end of years exams.

It was odd that Harry could think back clearly and see how he had been. The affect of losing a dæmon had been overwhelming and he was surprised he'd managed to cope at all. Which only reminded Harry what he had meant to ask Hermione.

"Hermione, what happens to people who lose their dæmons?"

Harry expected Tom to interrupt and demand she be quiet, so Harry was surprised when Tom only remained mute.

Hermione bit her lip as Ramiron shifted his gaze up from the textbook.

"Oh, that. It doesn't matter," Hermione said.

Harry frowned.

"You said I had a right to know."

"Well yes, but it doesn't matter anymore, you and Tom are okay now. Tom should keep you from-"

She stopped and wouldn't say anything else no matter how much Harry pressed.

"Well at least tell me how you found out," Harry finally asked.

"I read it," Hermione said.

Harry groaned.

"Good luck," Ron offered, "Hermione must have read every book in the library. I could ask my dad if you want?"

Tom seemed horribly satisfied by this as hummed and ran his fingers through Harry's hair.

Harry frowned and twisted away from him. This was the only thing that Tom was still keeping from him. Every other question that Harry had thought up in the following days, Tom had done his best to try and explain.

"You do know I'm still mad at you, right?" Harry said.

Tom only smiled as he tugged Harry closer.

"I know."

"Then stop looking so happy," Harry said.

Tom's smile flicked into a grin.

It would take a long time before they were okay again but everything was certainly better. Harry had been surprised by his lack of nightmares recently. He was sure it was something to do with Tom.

"Or you could maybe ask my dad when you come to visit," Ron continued, "Mum seems determined to look after you since that article in the Daily Prophet. And dad will probably be up for looking for Lyra."

Sephronia barked in approval.

Harry turned back away from Tom, although he didn't pull away. As well as telling Ron and Hermione everything about the last few months, he'd also told them about Lyra and he felt better for it. Sephronia and Ramiron had been particularly excited. Sephronia more so as she still hated any interaction with Tom.

"Yeah, but I still need to get permission from the Malfoy's," Harry said.

"Well you'll still write won't you?" Hermione added. "I doubt I'll see you until next year and I can't see the Malfoy's letting you associate with me."

Tom however didn't look concerned.

"We'll find a way, Hermione."

Hermione beamed at him but Harry couldn't help but feel doubtful. From the little interactions he'd had with Lucius Malfoy, the man had been very strict.

* * *

And with that, the rest of the year was thankfully uneventful. Surprisingly, Harry managed to pass all of his exams.

Harry woke up on the morning of the Hogwarts express feeling anxious to say the least. He didn't know how he was going to cope spending a whole summer with Draco.

Harry's trunk had been packed the previous night, so he was surprised to find Hedwig sitting on the the end of his bed, a parcel sitting on his covers. Harry frowned as Tom shifted over to retrieve it.

Harry unwrapped it to discover a cloak. It looked heavy and expensive. Tom spun it around his own shoulders and Harry's mouth dropped open. Only Tom's head was left.

Harry scrambled out of bed as Tom looked down at his own invisible body. He looked impressed.

"What does the note say?" Tom asked.

Harry picked up the single piece of parchment to see some very neat elegant writing.

_Your father left this in my possession before he died._

_I fear that the time has come where you will need this._

_Keep it hidden and stay safe._

There was no signature. Harry stared at the writing. He had never owned anything from his parents before and he was a little bit thankful that Ron was still snoring away in the bed beside him.

He passed it to Tom.

"Mmm," Tom agreed. "You should keep the cloak on you always."

At Harry's puzzled look, Tom sighed.

"I'm certain Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater, Harry."

Harry hadn't forgotten.

"So why haven't the Ministry done anything? Surely they won't want us anywhere near Voldemort."

"The Ministry has no evidence Malfoy is a Death Eater. Not to forget he's a school governor and very influential," Tom said.

"He is?" Harry asked. The amount of information Tom seemed to know was unnerving. "Did Voldemort tell you that?"

Tom smiled.

"No, Draco did. I knew you weren't listening. Anyway, Malfoy is of more use to Voldemort within the Ministry. So if he does establish contact, Voldemort will have to tread carefully."

"You're just saying that to make me feel better," Harry said. "Voldemort doesn't care about any of that if he can get his hands on you."

Tom couldn't help but grin at this.

"Was I that obvious?"

Harry only nodded, but he couldn't shake the sinking feeling in his stomach.

"So what does it mean?" Harry said.

Tom took Harry's hand in his and give them a reassuring squeeze.

"It means, I'm sure we're in for an interesting summer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends first year. Thanks for reading this far, and if anyone is still interested, second year will continue on from here. Or if you can't wait, you can go and read ahead on ffn where this story is completed up to the start of third year. I will note though that this story gets very dark and there are some nasty cliffhangers coming up. Enjoy.
> 
> Also, see below for a complete list of dæmons.
> 
> Harry – Pine Marten – Lyra & Tom
> 
> Hermione – Otter – Ramiron
> 
> Ron – Terrier – Sephronia
> 
> Fred – Husky – Celendia
> 
> George – Husky – Demetria
> 
> Percy – Small pug – Bronwyn
> 
> Ginny – Horse – Galian
> 
> Neville – Bunny/anything – Cyrilla
> 
> Seamus – Fox – Ondine
> 
> Draco – White Ferret – Adara
> 
> Crabbe – Hyena – Camelai
> 
> Goyle – Gorilla – Olesia
> 
> Blaise –Cheetah – Lalini
> 
> Pansy – Black Swan – Patamon
> 
> Theodore – Sparrowhawk - Therru
> 
> Ernie – Boar - Honora
> 
> Dumbledore – Phoenix – Fawkes
> 
> McGonagall – Cat – Einaris
> 
> Snape – Bat – Laraine
> 
> Madam Pomfrey – Hedgehog – Kulang
> 
> Hooch – Hawk – Tiberius
> 
> Professor Flitwick – Dormouse – Tana
> 
> Hagrid – Hound – Ilaria
> 
> Fudge – Bulldog - Gracia
> 
> Srimgeour – Large Ginger Tabby – Nala
> 
> Tonks - Jack Rabbit - Corin
> 
> Kingsley – Lynx - Amabel
> 
> Madam Bones – Robin – Talon
> 
> Moody – Unknown – Itzel
> 
> Voldemort – Snake – Nagini
> 
> Lucius Malfoy – Peahen – Chandraki
> 
> Molly – Honey Badger – Caedmon
> 
> Rita Skeeter – Beetle – Orion


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Harry couldn't move. His chest was tight and his breathing uneven.

Harry twisted back, fingers curling tight around the metal mesh which enclosed him. It was hard from his cramped position but it allowed Harry to kick as hard as he could.

The door didn't budge, the lock unyielding against his weight.

Harry cursed as he threw himself forwards, knowing that with every frantic heart beat, time was running out. The occupant of the second cage was still, curled tight in the centre as her small chest rose and fell sharply.

"Lyra," Harry whispered.

The small pine marten spun around to stare at Harry, eyes wide and terrified. But there was no way to escape, not when their captor had their wand drawn. Harry desperately wanted to ignore them, but it was all the more difficult as their eyes burned with a horrible hunger.

Harry kicked once more but his cage remained solid and undamaged.

He had no other option.

"Tom-" Harry said, "Let us out."

Tom was grinning at him, but there was no amount of warmth in his expression. Instead, only cruel eyes watched in amusement.

"Now where would be the fun in that?" Tom asked, eyes drifting up to look above Harry's head.

Harry glanced up, and immediately wished he hadn't. The ominous silver blade remained still, balanced precariously, waiting to give itself to gravity. Lyra snarled, back arched as she threw herself at Tom, teeth snapping as if she would be able to tear her way through the mesh.

Tom tutted, but his eyes gleamed.

"Now, there's no need to be so savage, Harry."

Harry glared at him, glad that Lyra was able to express what he could not.

"If you don't want us anymore, why don't you get in the cage?" Harry said. It would be a clean cut and then he would be empty, just like Tom intended.

Tom's sickening grin widened.

"Why? Don't you want me anymore?"

Tom looked horribly eager to hear Harry's answer. And this only aided Harry's decision.

"I don't want you," Harry said. But Tom's smile remained as ruthless as before, as if he knew there was no truth to it. Even Lyra had quietened now, tail wrapping back around her small body as if it would make her less of a target.

"Such lies, Harry," Tom said, and he stepped away from Harry's cage to move closer to Lyra.

"Don't touch her," Harry said, scrabbling forwards, but he could do nothing as her cage clicked open.

Tom reached his hand forward, not flinching as the pine marten bared her sharp teeth. Tom had no right, Lyra was Harry's alone, not just any creature that they would share.

"There is a difference between me and Lyra," Tom said as he held his hand steady.

Lyra approached Tom's hand cautiously, hesitated only briefly before she pushed her face against it. Harry's stomach twisted, hating how much comfort this gave him.

"She is your soul," Tom continued as Lyra settled on his shoulder. She wrapped her tail around his neck.

The nausea was rising in Harry's throat but he held his voice steady.

"And you are Voldemort's."

Tom nodded as he stroked Lyra. He looked very content as his gaze once again flicked back up to the guillotine. This time Harry caught himself as he refused to look up. Tom wouldn't scare him.

"And yet we are bound together," Tom said as he tilted his head back to look Harry. "And you are so helplessly dependent on me, Harry."

"I'm not helpless-" Harry started.

"You are, stop lying to yourself," Tom interrupted and if to make his point he only stroked Lyra again, clearly aware of the affect it was having on Harry. "You have no choice, Harry. We shall always be together. You have to trust me."

It was so brutally true. Tom would always be his and Harry could do nothing but depend completely on their connection to survive.

Harry couldn't breathe and the cage only added in his claustrophobia. The bars were closing in, pressing back against Harry's grip. Blood started to seep down his fingers.

"Let me out."

Tom smiled again, but it wasn't this that made Harry despair. Lyra remained obediently on Tom's shoulder. She didn't even flinch, only watched with wide curious eyes.

Harry's prison started to shake. Tom raised his wand up, staring in confusion at the interruption.

But Harry couldn't take his eyes away, he just wished Lyra would act, retaliate against Tom instead of watch their exchange in silence.

The cage rattled violently and Harry was sure the blade would fall.

Tom's chilling smile however, suddenly slipped off his face, only to be replaced with a sudden look of deep concern.

"Harry-"

Harry ignored him, but in that split second, in one blink, Lyra was gone. The other cage was empty, with no sign that his dæmon had been trapped at all.

Tom's voice was sharper now, his face flooded with terror.

"Harry, wake up."

Tom lunged forwards, wand clattering to the floor as the cage shook one final time.

* * *

Harry jerked up, cold sweat covering him. Tom was shadowed in darkness and both hands gripped tight around Harry's shoulders.

They were both sitting up on a large four poster bed and it took Harry a moment to realise that the bars he had been gripping were in fact Tom's wrists.

"Harry-" Tom sounded relieved although his own brow was furrowed.

Harry let go slowly, his eyes coming to look at their blurry room in Malfoy Manor.

"Are you okay-" Tom started as he handed Harry his glasses.

But Harry wasn't listening as he untangled himself from his covers, snatching his glasses from Tom's hand.

"Harry, wait-"

But the nightmare was too fresh, too real. Harry pushed past Tom and stumbled into the en-suite, his hands shaking as he clicked the lock shut, chest rising and falling as he shut his eyes tight.

"Harry, open the door. I can help," Tom's voice started from the other side of the door.

Taking a deep breath, Harry approached the sink which had a large ornate mirror hanging above it.

His own haunted face peered back at him. It was the same every night. Harry hadn't had a peaceful nights sleep since Hogwarts. Placing his glasses down on the side, Harry lent over and twisted the brass tap to run some water.

Tom knocked on the door again.

"Harry, just let me in."

Harry took another deep breath. In his dream he'd wanted out and now he was the one locking himself away.

It shouldn't be this hard. He knew Tom. Tom would never. But he had, and Tom's chilling grin was still imprinted clearly in Harry's mind.

Harry ignored Tom's continued knocks, faint memories shooting back to Lyra as he tried to get his thoughts straight. Would Tom ever be his again? Or was he always to remain tainted by Voldemort.

"Harry?" Tom said again.

Harry took a deep breath, green eyes peering back at him.

"I'm fine," Harry said as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Tom was still standing outside the door, but Harry only pushed past him. He didn't care for Tom's crestfallen face, or the brief soothing contact that their connection offered.

"Harry-" Tom started.

Harry turned to look at him.

"What?"

Tom looked uncertain at Harry's abruptness and it took him a moment before his hand fell to his side.

"Never mind," Tom said.

Harry moved back onto the large bed, sinking into the mattress as his head fell onto the pillow.

As expected, Tom didn't make any effort to move or acknowledge that Harry was lying awake. Instead the bed only dipped slightly as Tom moved beside him.

It was the same every night, with Harry trapped in this endless cycle. They had only been at the Manor for a couple of weeks, and Harry was already wishing for term to start and to seek a distraction from the long hours where it was just him and Tom.

* * *

Breakfast wouldn't be served for another hour, but as the minutes ticked by, and from Tom's complete lack of communication, there was no point feigning sleep any longer.

Tom watched as Harry pulled himself away to grab some clothes. Mrs Malfoy had sniffed at his overlarge muggle clothing and so she'd arranged for their house elf to provide Harry with some plain shirts and trousers. It wasn't much, but at least Harry didn't look like he was drowning in Dudley's oversized t-shirts anymore.

Tom only followed Harry silently, out into the darker corridors of the mansion. It was a common thing for them to do, go for a walk before breakfast. Malfoy Manor was similar to Hogwarts in that respect, with multiple rooms and expansive grounds, and even now when Harry thought he knew where everything was, he had the distinct impression they had barely scratched the surface.

The sky was beautifully clear as they stepped out of the front door. It had been raining in the night, and Harry's footprints left wet indentations on the lawn.

Tom had gotten used to Harry's bouts of silence over the past weeks and Harry had no doubt that Tom knew what Harry was thinking.

As if to confirm this, Tom finally spoke.

"Was Lyra there again?"

Harry nodded, his chest tight.

"Did I hurt her this time?" Tom asked.

Harry's mind flashed back to the first night they'd been at the manor.

"No," he said.

Tom smiled slightly, but he still didn't look very happy.

"Good."

Whatever reconciliation Harry and Tom had come to after the guillotine was already splintering. Harry couldn't just forget and move on. Not when his nightmares were lingering, waiting for him to fall into sleep every night.

Tom's actions since then had only been confusing. He'd acknowledged everything, and Harry's word was as good as law. But this had only annoyed Harry further.

"Maybe you could try-" Tom started.

"No," Harry said turning away sharply.

"It will help, you wouldn't have any nightmares anymore," Tom said.

"You just want me to forget," Harry said. "So you can stop feeling so guilty."

Tom's mouth snapped shut, eyes narrowing.

"Occulumency will help you clear your mind, Harry," Tom said. "You'll be able to sleep without nightmares again."

"I don't care," Harry said. "Plus maybe I want to have my nightmares, at least then I still get to see Lyra."

Tom grabbed Harry's arms at this, tugging him round so they came to a halt on the huge lawn.

"At what expense?" Tom said.

Harry laughed.

"You're just jealous that I have her, that I won't need you."

"Lyra is you," Tom said, his hands clenching slightly on Harry's arm. "She completes you, you are broken without her. I want you to have her back, Harry. Do you not think I miss her too?"

Harry's laugh stopped almost as abruptly as he'd started as he gave Tom a very hard stare. If only it would be easy to believe him.

"I don't want you anywhere near her," Harry spat, and he gripped Tom's own wrist, making to push him away.

Tom winched, and Harry would have believed it was from his sharp words if he hadn't felt that sudden jolt of pain.

Tom reacted as quickly as Harry. His face relaxing instantly as his brow creased in an apparent reaction to Harry's words. But Harry's grip only tightened, holding Tom close to him.

Tom made to pull away, but Harry grabbed his sleeve, twisting it up.

"Let go," Tom hissed, eyes bearing into Harry's.

Tom was trying to sound malicious, but the crack in his voice and the desperation coursing into Harry gave the game away so clearly.

"Tom," Harry said sharply.

Tom remained deadly still as Harry pulled Tom's arm forwards, his own hands turning Tom's wrists upwards.

Deep nail marks cut into Tom's skin and there was evidence enough of bruising and the withdrawal of blood.

Harry stared, head pounding as his throat tightened.

"I hurt you," Harry said. His voice sounded numb, but Tom only pulled his sleeve back down.

"It's my own fault, I couldn't wake you up," Tom said with a shrug.

Harry's mind flashed back to the bars, the blood running down his fingers.

"Sorry," Harry muttered, looking down at the wet lawn.

"Don't be," Tom said as he slipped his own hand quickly into Harry's. "Come on, let's go find some breakfast."

Harry let Tom lead him back across the grass, his own head spinning.

* * *

Draco was already sitting at the large dinning table with Adara curled up on his lap when Harry and Tom entered.

"Morning," Draco yawned as Adara lifted her head.

Narcissa Malfoy was also present with her dæmon, Arren. Her dæmon was an Arctic fox who had short dark coarse fur. Draco had assured Harry when he looked confused, that Arren looked a lot more impressive in winter when he had his full coat on. Nevertheless, Harry Harry sat down, stomach churning as Arren's small eyes scanned over Harry and Tom. When Harry made no move to reach for anything, Tom pushed some toast in front of him.

"Your owl delivered a letter this morning," Narcissa said. "I had Dobby take it up to your room."

Harry sat up at this. Hermione had been writing every other day and Ron, every time his parents owl looked up for the journey. Hedwig unfortunately, wasn't allowed in the house. Instead she had been spending most of her time resting in a small outhouse that the Malfoy's owned at the edge of their grounds.

"Dobby could have just bought it to me, we were only in the garden," Harry said.

In fact Harry had been quite eager to speak to the Malfoy's house elf, but he'd barely seen the creature. Every time he tried to get a word in, the elf only bowed low and disappeared with a loud crack.

"He's not meant to get in the way," Draco said as he helped himself to some porridge.

"Does everyone have a house elf?" Harry asked.

"Usually," Draco said. "Everyone I know does."

Harry wondered why Ron hadn't mentioned it. But at least Harry understood where his clean clothes appeared from and the meals at dinner time. Harry couldn't imagine Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy doing the house work.

"Your father left early this morning," Narcissa said when Adara looked towards the one empty chair at the large table. "He had urgent business at the Ministry."

If the last few weeks were anything to go by, Lucius Malfoy was hardly at home. Even Narcissa often looked busy and so Harry and Draco were relatively free to find their own entertainment.

However, this it seemed, was about to change.

"Lucius was asking what you would like to do for your birthday?" Narcissa Malfoy said.

Harry nearly chocked on his toast.

"Sorry?"

He'd never celebrated his birthday before, not unless he counted Hagrid taking them both to Diagon Alley last year. Fortunately, Tom was at hand to save him any further embarrassment.

"Dinner would be fine," Tom said with a smile.

This was oddly acceptable as Narcissa nodded, but Draco rolled his eyes.

"That's boring. We should go and see Falmouth Falcons play," Draco said.

"I don't want to cause a fuss," Harry said, although the prospect of seeing a professional quidditch match did sound exciting.

When Tom didn't comment further, Arren dipped his small head down and looked towards Narcissa. Narcissa smiled and placed a careful hand to stroke Arren on his head.

"I will speak to Lucius about getting tickets," she said.

Draco beamed and even Adara seemed to perk up, her ears twitching as she jumped up onto the table to grab some toast. Arren growled at her as Draco quickly scooped her up.

* * *

Harry couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach when he and Tom left breakfast.

And it seemed like he wasn't the only one still thinking about Quidditch as Draco and Adara caught up with them on the staircase.

"For the last time, no." Harry said.

"Just try it," Draco said, and he fell into pace beside them. Adara scurried along in front, weaving through the legs of a suit of armour. "You won't regret it."

Harry pulled his gaze away from her to glare at Draco. They came to a halt on the stairs.

Draco leaned against the bottom banister.

"Oh, sorry. I must be getting confused. I thought Gryffindor's were a house full of the brave idiots, not stubborn cowards," Draco said.

Harry flushed, stepping back towards Draco with fury.

"You have no idea what it was like," Harry said.

Draco reached his hand out to steady Harry's shoulder, but he froze at Tom's icy cold stare. Draco's hand fell back to his side as Adara seemed to shift into submissiveness as she crouched herself small.

Draco cleared his throat.

"You're a decent flyer, Harry. Even I could tell that."

"I was only in the air for 20 seconds," Harry retorted.

"Still," Draco continued, cautiously now as his eyes slipped to Tom and back. "Your dæmon isn't here at the moment, flying should be safe."

Since his fall, Harry hadn't been back on a broom and he wasn't about to change that now.

At Harry and Tom's continued silence Draco sighed.

"Look, isn't this what friends do? Make fun of them until they give in? You're better getting back in the air sooner rather than later, otherwise it's just going to be harder."

Harry couldn't help but grin.

"Why, when did you fall off your broom?"

Draco turned red, as he grumbled.

"Does it matter, just trust me, alright? Otherwise summer is going to be so dull if I always have to fly by myself," Draco said.

Harry shrugged. "Well tough, I've got homework I need to do." And he really wanted to read his letter.

Draco looked unconvinced.

"Still? I know Tom's done all of it all ready-"

"Harry said no," Tom said coldly.

Draco immediately shut up as Adara dipped her head hurriedly.

Harry froze, watching as Draco changed tact at once, eyes flicking between Harry and Tom.

"Fine, well if you change your mind-" Draco trailed off.

Tom's word shouldn't have that affect on the Slytherin. It just wasn't right.

_"You're so helplessly dependent on me."_

Tom's words from Harry's nightmare flashed in his mind.

He didn't need Tom to tell Draco to back off. It was stupid really, it was just Draco. It wasn't like it was a life or death situation, but still Draco's submission at Tom's words really grated on Harry.

"Okay," Harry said automatically.

Draco's gaze shot to him, brow creasing.

"I'll do it, I'll fly," Harry said.

Draco looked delighted, while Tom on the other hand didn't look impressed at all. Harry stepped back down beside Draco automatically, knowing that Tom would not argue it.

"But just this once," Harry added.

But this didn't seem to deter Draco as Adara actually skipped down Draco's arms and onto the staircase, ready to lead the way.

* * *

Draco immediately took to the air in a roll.

Harry turned to his broom, wishing he'd just stuck to his word and refused.

"Up," Harry instructed. Unlike last time, the broom didn't shoot into his hand. Instead it sort of rolled over pathetically on the wet grass.

Tom gripped Harry's wrist gently and gave it a small squeeze.

"You don't have to do this, Harry," he said.

Harry glared at him and yanked his arm away.

"I'm not afraid."

"I never said you were," Tom said softly.

Harry held out his hand again and almost shouted the word. The broom reacted perfectly, fitting securely into Harry's grip.

Harry turned to give Tom a smirk, before his expression fell. He'd forgotten he needed Tom's cooperation. Harry's initial bout of defiance was dissipating fast.

"Tom-" Harry started. He certainly wasn't getting on the broom alone. Not after what had happened with Lyra.

Harry was sure Tom was going to refuse, so he was surprised when Tom complied.

"Just keep it steady and don't do anything reckless," Tom whispered in his ear as he gripped Harry's waist tightly.

Harry gently tilted the broom up, his stomach twisting as his feet slowly edged off the grass.

Really he had nothing to fear. So why was this difficult when Lyra was no where close. Even Tom's arms wrapped around him offered little comfort.

Harry knew Draco was watching him with an eager smile, as Adara perched expertly on his shoulder. There was no going back now. Harry tilted the broom back suddenly, slamming his eyes closed as he held his breath.

He could feel the wind rushing through his hair, Tom's grip tightening as the broom rose fast.

Nothing happened.

Harry's eyes shot open, almost surprised to find himself hovering high in the sky just above the top of Malfoy Manor. Sure enough though, he was at least forty feet in the air.

And this time there was no separation, no strain on his soul. Only the usual distressing hum of Lyra's continued absence.

Harry titled the broom sideways, happy when it turned perfectly. It was almost like he'd left all his worries on the ground. Harry leant forward on the broom, letting it dip slightly into a swallow dive, Harry then responded by angling it sharply up, twisting back high into the sky.

Tom pinched him slightly in warning, but Harry didn't care. He positioned the broom into another dive, this time steeper as Harry swerved around Draco.

Finally, this was something which was easy, something which Harry could do instinctively.

After a few more spins and loops, Harry touched down gently on the grass.

"What?" he asked innocently as Tom promptly got off the broom.

Tom look distinctly pale as he placed a hand on Harry's shoulder to steady himself.

"Don't do that again."

Draco landed beside him with a stupid satisfied smirk on his face.

Harry couldn't help but grin back at him as he ran his hand through his hair.

"You should try out for your house team next year, Father tells me I should try out for Slytherin," Draco said as Adara jumped off his shoulder to run around Harry's feet.

Harry shrugged, still smiling. Now he had done it, it seemed odd that he hadn't been back on a broomstick earlier. The feeling of flying had been similar, but it had been shadowed by his fall.

"You seriously can't be thinking of trying out for the Quidditch team?" Tom started, expression cold.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry said smiling. He hadn't even given it any thought yet, and already Tom was overreacting.

"It's dangerous, you could get yourself hurt. Like last time," Tom added stiffly.

Harry crossed his arms and glared at Tom. He was about to snap something back, but the genuine concern from Tom was screaming across their connection.

Harry took a deep breath.

"I'll be fine. I'll even let you have a go."

Harry couldn't help but laugh as Tom hit him.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Harry tiptoed back into the manor glancing left and right.

"You're not going to get away with it," Tom said.

"I might," Harry said. "And keep your voice down."

Beside him Tom walked comfortably as Harry strained his ears to see if anyone was coming into the entrance hall.

"You could at least watch where you're stepping," Harry said, as Tom's own footprints left muddy patches across the polished floor.

"I'm not the one who crashed," Tom said.

"I didn't crash," Harry protested as he began to climb carefully up the large staircase. "You made me lose balance."

"Well after a manoeuvre like that how did you expect me to stay on? I don't defy gravity you know."

"Well neither do I," Harry bit back. "But in future you need to stay still."

"You were rocketing towards the ground," Tom said, crossing his arms. "You shouldn't wait till the very last second to pull up."

Harry shrugged as they reached the top of the stairs. He began to edge his way along the corridor. It was no use though as each footprint left a fresh imprint on the carpet. Above them, dozens of portraits from numerous generations of the Malfoy family glared down at them.

"I think you got away with it," Tom commented when they reached their bedroom door.

Harry glared at him.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and a squeak. Harry jumped a mile, muddy hand flying out to steady himself against the wall.

The Malfoy's house elf, dressed in its old pillowcase, was standing in the centre of the hall. Its hands were held up over his ears and its eyes wide at the trail of mud Harry and Tom had left.

"I'm sorry," Harry started, but Dobby wasn't listening as he shook his head violently.

He disappeared again with another loud crack.

Harry removed his hand from the wall which now left a very obvious Harry sized hand print. After about ten seconds of nothing, Harry peered back over his shoulder.

"Do you think we should just leave?"

But Tom never got to reply. Another crack and Dobby reappeared with a large bucket of soapy water, a mop and some sponges.

Harry and Tom watched as Dobby knelt down, nearly tripping over his pillowcase as he began to clean.

Harry knelt down and grabbed a sponge. Tom remained standing, watching with his arms crossed and a deep frown.

Dobby however, was not so amused as he stared at Harry with a new found horror.

"Bad Dobby! Harry Potter should not be doing that!"

Harry had never heard the small elf speak before, and his voice was high pitched and worryingly carried down the hall.

"I was just helping-" Harry started.

But this apparently was too much for the small elf, as without warning he leapt forwards and grabbed the mop.

"Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!" Dobby said as he smashed the implement over his head.

Harry darted forward, attempting to prise it from Dobby's grip.

"What are you doing?!"

But the elf was surprisingly strong as he smashed it against he head once again.

"Harry Potter is a guest," Dobby said. "He should not be cleaning. If Harry Potter is helping then Dobby is not doing his job properly."

"But it's my mess!" Harry said. "I'll clean it up."

But Dobby was having none of it as he nearly knocked the bucket of soapy water over.

"Bad Dobby. Bad Dobby!"

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again," Harry said, hands still gripping the other end of the mop, just in case Dobby decided to try anything again.

Instead, Dobby did the exact opposite as he froze and promptly burst into tears.

"Look, I'll sort it out. And I won't do it again. I promise," Harry said. "I didn't mean to upset you-"

"Upset Dobby!" Dobby said as he stared at Harry in complete disbelief. "Dobby has never been apologised to by a wizard-"

"Oh right, well-" Harry started.

But Tom it seemed was long past his patience.

"Leave us," Tom instructed clearly taking a single step forwards.

Dobby stopped at once, relinquishing the mop to Harry as bowed low to Tom before disappearing with a loud crack.

"You didn't have to do that," Harry said, "I know he was a bit hysterical but-"

"You don't need to clean, and you certainly didn't need to apologise," Tom said.

"It was my fault-"

"You're not at the Dursley's anymore," Tom said sharply. "You never need to do anything like that again, do you understand me?"

Harry stared at Tom, a cold expression on his face.

"It was my fault," Harry repeated tightly. "I guess you're used to not thinking about the consequences."

Tom's eyes widened ever so slightly but his lips remained shut. Harry smiled viciously, glad that he had touched a nerve.

Tom's chest rose and fell as he took a single deep breath, but he didn't break eye contact.

"He's a house-elf. It's his job to clean up. If he's not obeying the Malfoy's then he'll punish himself and you'll only cause him more distress."

That certainly explained why Dobby had been so adamant with the mop, but Harry didn't want to admit that. Instead Harry crossed his arms and glared at Tom.

"That's stupid. It makes no sense."

Tom smiled at him, almost like he knew Harry's charade.

"Dobby will be much happier if you leave him to it."

It wasn't right. But Tom it seemed was done with the conversation as he stepped over the bucket of water.

Harry continued to glare after him as Tom's muddy shoes only left more footprints. Annoying Tom was right, Harry was only causing more work for everyone.

Harry followed, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he entered the room. He was about to say something else about Dobby, but all thoughts of the small elf promptly disappeared. A letter was resting on Harry's bedside table.

Harry crossed the room and tore it open, scanning the words quickly, before sitting down heavily on his bed. Mud now covered the bed sheets but Harry didn't care.

It was just the same as Ron's last letter which had arrived the other day. Hedwig had delivered it after Errol had stopped feeling up for the journey.

"Let me guess," Tom said quietly. "You still haven't had any luck finding out what happens when a person loses a dæmon?"

Harry glared at him, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel deep disappointment. From the sound of Ron's many scribbles, it looked like Mr Weasley had been very angry that Ron had asked at all.

"You really don't want to know, Harry" Tom said.

Harry clenched his fists. It was such a stupid thing for Tom to say. It was Harry who had lost Lyra, he deserved to know more than Tom. And even when they'd been at odds with each other for weeks, and Tom had been going out of his way to accommodate anything Harry wanted, on this subject Tom wouldn't budge.

At Harry's stony silence, Tom sighed heavily and moved into the bathroom. Harry could hear the sound of taps being turned and then the running of bath water.

Glancing down at his muddy robes, Harry was still in half the mind to stay in the bedroom and ignore Tom, but Dobby had been distraught enough already.

Harry marched into the bathroom.

"Come on," Harry said. "Having no dæmon can't be worse than the moment I lost Lyra."

Tom didn't say anything, instead he turned slowly hands moving to unbutton Harry's shirt. But Tom stopped as Harry gripped his wrist tightly.

"You can't hide it from me forever."

Toms didn't meet Harry's eyes. His heart was racing, and Harry could feel every beat through Tom's distress.

"Harry, not having a dæmon destroys a person," Tom said quietly.

Harry fixed Tom with a cold stare.

"How?"

Again Tom didn't say a word.

Fine. If Tom wasn't going to play fair, Harry didn't need to either and Tom owed him an answer.

Harry stepped closer, knowing that Tom craved normality more than he'd admit.

"Tom," Harry said, hands wrapping around Tom's waist. His clothes were still muddy, but as expected Tom didn't seem to care. He stilled, watching Harry carefully.

"Tell me," Harry tilted his head, eyes locked onto Tom intently. "We always share everything."

"Don't-" Tom started with a sad knowing smile. "It won't work."

Harry scowled, drawing away almost as quickly as he'd leant in.

Tom however moved with him, arms locking either side of Harry so that Harry's back was pressed hard into the sink.

"Do you remember that book you first got in Diagon Alley last year?" Tom said. His voice was barely audible and Harry thought he'd misheard at first. He had bought a number of books on top of his school ones, but they hardly seemed important now.

"The Rise and Fall of the Dart Arts?"

Tom shook his head.

"Me, Myself and My Dæmon. You read it, remember? It lightly touches on what happens."

Harry was about to move out of the bathroom to find the book, but Tom's next words held him in place.

"It says the person becomes a shadow of what they once were."

"A shadow? What the hell does that mean?" Harry asked.

Tom frowned, chewing his lip as he chose his words carefully. He didn't move away though as he said softly.

"I did say it lightly touches upon it."

But Harry couldn't help but feel a rush of triumph. The Hogwarts library or even the Malfoy's large expanse of a library would probably have something on shadows.

"Harry," Tom's voice was sharp, sensing Harry's resolve. "Please just drop it. I'm not going anywhere, you don't need to know. Anyway, that book is aimed towards children, shadow is ambiguous enough. Other books will just address them by their proper name."

This caused Harry to stop and stare. That made no sense.

"Them?"

Tom held his gaze steady, unblinking as Harry digested the information.

"So what?" Harry said slowly, as he tried to ignore the shiver running through his body. "I would've turned into something? Like a werewolf?"

Tom ran his hand down his face, half distraught, otherwise a smile tugging at his lips.

"Not a werewolf," Tom said. "But why do you think there was such outrage when the ministry tried to separate us? You would have changed past anything recoverable."

Harry's mind flashed back to the silver blade hanging precariously above his head. Dumbledore had gambled on Lyra coming back.

"So the Ministry has the guillotine to create these...whatever they are?"

Again Tom didn't answer. He seemed to be running out of vague answers and Harry knew he wasn't getting any more information today.

"Tom, I'll find out-" Harry started anyway.

"You should get cleaned up," Tom said, suddenly squeezing Harry's hand.

"Tom-"

But he'd already left the bathroom leaving Harry feeling more confused than before.

* * *

The day before Harry's birthday arrived and with it saw Adara bouncing excitedly around the dining table.

"Finish your lunch," Arren snapped as Adara nearly knocked over the pumpkin juice.

Draco shifted sheepishly as his mother stroked her dæmon. Her Arctic fox was sitting in her lap and had been eyeing up Adara cautiously for the last half hour.

Harry was just finishing his own lunch when Lucius Malfoy set down his own goblet. Chandraki ruffled her feathers which seemed to have an immediate affect on Adara. She ducked her head and shifted under Draco's arm.

"I trust you are all ready?" Lucius said.

Harry sat up, butterflies in his stomach. Draco jumped up and started to make his way towards the fireplace.

"Not today, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said. "I've arranged a Portkey."

Harry immediately hoped his sandwich would stay down.

Lucius Malfoy pulled out a round object from his robes which looked like a small glass paperweight.

Narcissa kept Arren carefully in her arms as she touched the portkey. Adara shifted up onto Draco's shoulder as he also held out his arm. Chandraki perched herself on a chair while Lucius Malfoy tucked one hand carefully under her wing.

Harry looked towards Tom as they both reached out their hands.

In an instant the portkey activated.

Harry's feet left the ground as everything spun. Beside him, Tom had his eyes shut and his face had gone distinctly pale.

They landed in a small clearing which was packed with witches, wizards and dæmons. Harry was relieved that he and Tom weren't the only ones who'd fallen over as Draco and Adara lay on the grass.

Lucius Malfoy set off at a brisk pace, causing Harry, Tom, Draco and Adara to scramble up. They joined a steady stream of people walking up to a large stadium.

"You'll love it," Adara squeaked as they passed salesmen with large flags and banners hovering above their heads.

The sheer number of wizards, witches and dæmons was overwhelming. Creatures of all shape and sizes that Harry had never seen before were darting through the crowd or soaring high above their heads.

The only thing Harry hadn't anticipated was how difficult it was to navigate through the crowd. Adara was perched on Draco's shoulder, tail wrapped tight around his neck. Lucius Malfoy had an imposing enough presence that people seemed to part out of his way, allowing Chandraki to follow comfortably behind. Even Narcissa Malfoy had no problems with Arren following close by her heel.

Tom however looked human, and even though he was transparent to others, it wasn't immediately obvious for everyone surrounding them to avoid him.

People had already nearly bumped into Tom a number of times. So now Harry's grip was deadly tight as he lead Tom from in front. It still didn't help that Harry had to avoid treading on all the smaller dæmons which darted under his feet.

Lucius Malfoy lead them high up the stadium to what must have been the best seats. They were right at the top in a row of fancy boxes with cushy seats.

Adara at once jumped off Draco's shoulder to run along the top of the railings. Draco joined her, peering over the high banister to look down on the crowd below.

Harry let go of Tom at once.

"Look," Draco pointed enthusiastically.

The crowd cheered as fourteen players flew onto the pitch, each followed by their respective dæmons. The referee wasn't that far behind, dressed in bright blue robes with a gull soaring alongside.

Harry was trying to remember all the rules. He'd only gotten the gist of them from watching the matches at school.

"The Montrose Magpies are great," Draco said. "But the Falcon's have the edge, you'll see their beaters are ruthless."

Draco pointed down to the dark grey and white robed players who had a Falcon displayed proudly on their chest. The Magpies on the other hand, were sporting black and white robes with a magpie on the front and back.

"Is that normal?" Harry asked Draco, gesturing at the players. "All their dæmons are birds."

Each dæmon was circling just above the group of players, aside from a kestrel which was hovering just above one of the Falcon's heads.

"Yeah, only the best players have birds," Draco said. "They can't fly high enough or fast enough otherwise."

"So it that why they're called the Falcons and the Magpies?" Harry asked.  
"Most Quidditch teams are named after dæmons," Draco said.

And then the referee blew her whistle.

The crowd erupted as both players and dæmons were off. The commentator rattling off the players names in quick succession as the quaffle moved at lightening speed.

The sheer number of things to keep track of was like nothing Harry had seen. The Hogwarts games had been fairly straight forward to watch in comparison. Now, the dæmons were playing a game of their own. Fourteen birds were soaring through the sky, and they were all deadly fast and targeting each other from the second the whistle had blown.

The beaters were just as quick, hammering the bludgers towards the players while also aiming for the dæmons.

"Is that allowed?" Harry said as a Falcon's beater collided with someone else's dæmon.

"Half second rule," Draco said as he pointed at the corresponding player.

From the moment their dæmon had been in contact with another human, one of the Magpie's had gone into a brief free-fall.

"But that's not right-" Harry said, automatically reaching for Tom's hand. It was forbidden, it was just wrong. No one should touch another person's dæmon. Accidentally was bad enough, let alone intentionally.

"It's one of the old traditions," Adara squeaked. "When the sport first started it was brutal, each team for themselves. You should hear the Falcon's motto."

"They've never done that at Hogwarts," Tom said, watching the players with cautious eyes.

"Course not," Draco added as Adara swapped shoulders to see the match better. "Professional Quidditch match's are the only exception, the only time it's seen as acceptable. Some teams don't do it though, it just depends on what lengths they're willing to go to win."

"But why would they want to play?" Harry asked. "That's awful."

"Well that's the thing, half of the game is spent trying to score and the other making sure your dæmon isn't vulnerable. It makes it way more exciting."  
"Dangerous more like," Tom said, as the Falcon's chaser dived around the Magpie's keeper to score a goal.

"Well the best dæmons don't get caught," Draco said. "See the swallow, she's never been touched to date."

Harry followed Draco's finger to just catch the quickest of blurs.

"Whose dæmon-" Harry started only to be drowned out by the roar of the crowd.

"Randolph Keitch, he's the Falcon's seeker," Draco answered, pointing to a player circling high above the crowd. "Lennox Campbell is the Magpie's, he's got the dove."

It seemed that the Magpie's weren't very happy at the Falcon's beater, as a couple of their dæmons retaliated. A blacbird and a hawk dived straight towards a large eagle.

"Basil Horton," Draco added above the roar of the crowd. "He's one of the best beaters the Falcon's have had. His eagle is one to watch."

The eagle had her claws out as she twisted upwards, narrowly missing the attack.

Occasionally, the dæmons would fly alongside their humans, knocking the quaffle back and forth and gripping it in their claws, but for the most part they kept separate. Out of danger and safe from the players touch.

Suddenly, the Magpie's seeker dived straight down.

In response Keitch spun around, swallow synchronised by his side in an instant. But Campbell was ahead, arm outstretched just about to enclose around a small golden ball.

Harry couldn't believe it and neither could the crowd as cheers and boo's erupted around the stadium. Surely, the match couldn't be over already.

And then Campbell stopped as quickly as he'd started, broom spinning wildly out of control as the snitch narrowly missed his grip.

"What happened?" Adara squeaked, dancing around on Draco's shoulder.

"Look, there," Harry pointed.

Horton's dæmon had it's claws tight around the Campbell's small dove.

"See, I told you. Plus anything goes between dæmons," Draco cheered.

"Look out!" Harry said.

But it was too late, as the eagle let go of the dove as quickly as they had grabbed it. A bludger came thundering towards the dove catching it straight on.

Campbell fell, tumbling out of the sky as the crowd screamed.

"I told you the beaters were ruthless," Draco beamed.

"And you still want to try-out for the Gryffindor team?" Tom said, nudging Harry.

"Oh, don't worry about that," Draco cut in. "You've seen the school matches, the team would probably get disqualified if they did any of that. Plus barely any of the players at school have birds for dæmons. They can't do half the stuff the professionals can."

Tom shot Draco a very cold look at this which made Adara shift behind Draco's neck.

Back on the pitch, a couple of witches and wizards were hovering on broomstick's, all dressed in green as they attended to Campbell and his dove.

The referee had her whistle in hand as the players waited, occasionally dodging the odd rogue bludger.

Campbell though looked like he was coming round. His dove hopped into his arms as he stumbled up.

"He doesn't look very good," Harry said.

The seeker was bleeding heavily from his head as one of the witches dressed in green waved her wand, bandage flying round his head.

"He'll be okay," Draco said. "The best accidents always happen when the snitch appears. That's when the seekers dæmons are most targeted."

Sure enough, Campbell was climbing onto his broom, but this time his dove was perched on his shoulder and she didn't look keen to take flight again.

The referee seemed satisfied though, as at a single caw from her gull she put the whistle to her lips.

Campbell kicked off from the ground, one hand steadying his dæmon as claws gripped his robes.

The snitch though had vanished.

The chasers were straight back into the game, with the quaffle rocketing through the air.

"The Magpie's will need to catch the snitch soon," Draco said. "Campbell doesn't look like he'll last much longer and they're falling behind on points."

Harry looked up to see Campbell swerving slightly. He was now flying high above the other players keeping away from any unnecessary harm. Aside from watching the bludgers, his eyes were searching feverishly for the snitch.

"Campbell has a great eye, even with a head injury" Draco explained. "It's still easier for Keitch to tail him then look himself."

And Draco was certainly right. It wasn't long when Campbell dived suddenly, Keitch hot on his heels.

Campbell's dove pushed off from his shoulder in one last burst of energy as she dived towards Keitch's swallow.

The seekers were basically neck and neck as dæmon's soared around each other, beaks and claws clashing.

Adara was perched on the edge of the box, as Draco, Harry and Tom watched and the commentator screamed the current score and that the snitch was everything to win.

"No!" Draco called. "Campbell has got it!"

"No he hasn't!" Harry said.

Keitch spun upwards suddenly, fist curled tight above his head. The golden snitch clutched firmly in his palm.

* * *

Harry sunk onto his bed, legs aching but beaming from ear to ear. He'd never had a day like it. They'd even gone out to a fancy wizarding restaurant after the match which had been nearly as impressive as the feasts at Hogwarts.

Harry's eyes were already half shut, but he didn't want to go to sleep. Harry wasn't ready to sink into his nightmares just yet.

The clock started to chime, and Harry eyes blinked open as the bed dipped.

Tom was sitting crossed leg with his hand held out in front of him.

"Happy Birthday," Tom said and he pressed something firmly into Harry's palm.

Harry pulled himself up, frowning at the small object.

"I read up on runes a little," Tom said as Harry flipped it over with his thumb. "We're not allowed to use magic outside of school after all, so I didn't know what else to do."

Harry stared at it, throat drying. It was a black stone and it had a symbol carved deep into the back of it.

"We've never done birthday presents."

Tom shifted as he glanced at Harry.

"I know, but it's said to act as a beacon for lost dæmons. I thought it might help."

Harry looked back to the stone, fingers tracing over its pattern as he tried to ignore his lingering dread.

"Does it work?"

Tom's brow was furrowed.

"I hope so, otherwise it's not a very good present is it?"

Lyra had been gone for such a long time, and Harry still hadn't shaken how long Cyrilla had been separated from Neville.

Tom shifted to sit next to him and he seemed to know what Harry was thinking.

"She'll come back," Tom said. "The only reason Lyra hasn't is because she's as stubborn as you."

Harry made to move in protest, but Tom moved his arm out to hold him. Harry could feel Tom's thumping heart.

"She will come back, Harry. She has to."

Harry gripped Tom's hand and gave it a small squeeze.

"Thanks."

Tom mouth twitched into a small smile as Harry moved to lie down properly, his eyes once again already half shut.

Tom's hands began gently weaving through Harry's hair. Harry stiffened, but Tom either didn't notice or didn't care. Maybe Harry's nightmares would be less intense tonight if he was so exhausted.

"Harry?" Tom whispered.

But Harry's consciousness was drifting and he didn't reply straight away.

"What-" Harry mumbled.

Tom exhaled, as his hands stilled in Harry's hair.

"Harry, I'm precious to Voldemort," Tom said. Harry's mouth dried, eyes blinking open.

"If something happens do not be afraid to hurt me to get to him."

"I can't-" Harry started.

"You have to," Tom's voice was so quiet, his heart still racing. "Voldemort will show you no mercy. Do not give him the same luxury. He must believe that I am expendable to you."

Harry rolled over to look at Tom's face shadowed in darkness.

"Tom-"

* * *

Harry couldn't have been asleep for long.

There was a loud crack, jolting Harry from the first pleasant dream he'd had in weeks.

Harry scrabbled in the darkness, squinting to see a small figure standing in the centre of their room.  
Tom was already sitting up, alert and gripping their wand.

"Dobby-" Harry said.

"Harry Potter must hide now!"

Dobby started banging his head against a bookcase as Harry untangled himself from the covers.

"Dobby, what-"

Hurried footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door.

Dobby spun fast, clicking his fingers with the distinct sound of the door locking.

"Harry Potter must hide," Dobby repeated franticly.

The handle rattled.

"Harry, quick!" Tom said, grabbing him as Harry fumbled for his invisibility cloak. There was fast angry mumblings from the other side of the door now, and Harry could see a beam of light casting shadows into their room.

"Hurry!" Tom hissed.

Harry threw it over them both as they both gripped each other tightly. The second they were hidden, Dobby vanished and the door slammed open.

Three robed masked Death Eaters entered, wands at the ready. There wasn't a single dæmon in sight.

Harry had started to hope Voldemort had forgotten about them.


	20. Chapter Twenty

Light streamed into the room.

Harry drew a single breath and his stomach twisted as the Death Eaters came across Harry and Tom's empty bed. At once, three wands spread out to the surrounding room.

"Where is the boy?" a gruff voice said, wand jabbing towards the only other closed door. It slammed open to reveal an empty bathroom.

One of the others stepped closer to the bed. He placed his hand to sense still warm covers.

"They haven't gone far," he said. "Not two minutes."

Underneath the cloak Tom was gripping their wand so tightly. His eyes darting between the three Death Eaters.

"We can't take them-" Harry said as he attempted to hedge towards the open door but Tom remained rigid, while his free hand wrapped tightly around Harry's wrist.

"Wait," Tom hissed.

One of the Death Eaters kicked the bed sharply and pointed his wand downwards as if expecting to find them hiding underneath.

"They're not here," the gruff one said as he balanced his wand on his palm. It hovered for a second before it started spinning wildly. "Or anywhere, for that matter."

"It'll be Malfoy's enchantments, but don't worry it's not like they can escape. Our Lord saw to that."

Harry glanced at Tom.

"Tom, let's just go-"

Tom still had his wand raised and was itching to attack. But it didn't matter anyway. The Death Eaters were already forming another plan.

"Clear the grounds first, force them back into the manor if necessary."

"Either that or lock down each room one by one."

"They're children, they can't be that hard to find-"

It was only when the last of the three stepped out the room did Tom finally move. He stepped tentatively forwards.

"Come on," Tom said as he made sure the cloak was completely covering their ankles.

The hallway was dark and lit only by a few flickering candles. Harry guessed it was Dobby's efforts, but still every footstep seemed to send creaks throughout the manor.

The portraits stared down at them unseeing but no mummer of Harry and Tom's movements seemed to echo back down the hallway.

"Why would the Malfoy's take us to see Quidditch and then decide to attack us in the night?" Harry said.

"Public appearance," Tom muttered. "If we suddenly disappear after being outside the Malfoy's home-"

"That doesn't make any sense," Harry said. "We came back here."

"Someone could have put a portkey in our pocket, or someone close to the Malfoy's could have broken into their home and taken us. The Malfoy's don't have to have an explanation. As long as there is some line of investigation the Ministry can follow."

"But it was Draco who suggested Quidditch?"

"Yes," Tom said. "But I think that was just coincidence-"

There was a loud crack and Harry jumped back. Tom's wand shot up.

Dobby was standing there, eyes glossing straight over them as he fidgeted from side to side.

"Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked.

Harry yanked the cloak off as Tom pressed their wand straight into Dobby's forehead. Dobby squeaked loudly and Harry winced and glanced down the hall.

"Take us away from here," Tom demanded.

Dobby didn't seem to be listening as his wide eyes crossed over to focus on the tip of Tom's wand.

"Now!"

Dobby jumped backwards as sparks spat out of the wand. He shook his head viciously.

"Dobby please!" Harry said, yanking Tom's wand down. "We need to leave."

Dobby eyes unfocused as his hands pressed over his large ears.

"I can't, sir. Master has forbidden it."

Tom swore.

"Malfoy doesn't need to know-" Harry started.

"He can't disobey a direct order." Tom interrupted. "He's no use to us."

Harry's heart sunk, Tom's panic filtering into his own.

"What about commands from Draco?" Harry said. But Dobby only shook his head harder as it rattled back and forth.

"Surely there's a loop hole?" Harry said. "Something that Malfoy wouldn't have thought of?"

"Voldemort is in control," Tom said as Dobby squeaked. "He'll have covered every escape."

Still though, it was worth a shot. Harry crouched down so he was level with Dobby.

"Dobby, can you take a message to someone?"

The elf just shook his head.

"What about if we used the broomsticks in the shed?"

Dobby bit his lip almost drawing blood. Harry's heart sunk, their options were disappearing thick and fast.

"I don't get it," Tom said and he pressed his finger into his temple. "We are of no use to Voldemort now, not while the Ministry has the guillotine. Voldemort's priorities should be gathering his followers and restoring his body. We are the least of his current problems."

Dobby had started hopping back and forth, and if anything his eyes had grown wider.

"Voldemort would secure you," Harry said. "Isn't that reason enough?"

Tom battered his hand and shook his head.

"I'm safe wherever I am, if it's the Ministry or Hogwarts. Without a body or his most deadly support Voldemort is nothing, whether he has me safe or not. There's always next summer or the next-"

"But last year-"

"Last year the Ministry didn't know Voldemort and I are different beings. Everything has changed, don't you see? Voldemort is more vulnerable than ever. So why is he doing this now, why not wait?"

Harry shook his head, but Dobby gave a very loud squeak at this, head lolling on his neck. Tom rounded on the elf in an instant, wand once again pressed between his eyes.

"What do you know?"

Harry had expected the elf to panic again, to bang his head against the wall even, so he was very surprised when Dobby fell completely still.

"The Dark Lord has found a way, sir," Dobby whispered.

Complete terror pulsed through Harry.

"How?" Tom said.

Dobby's wide eyes drifted across to Harry. For a moment Tom's eyes only fell on Harry, brow knitting together as Harry pointed at himself.

Dobby gave a single nod.

Harry remained silent, heart hammering from their shared distress. Voldemort had only shown interest in him as far as Tom was concerned. How could Harry give Voldemort back his body.

"He can't have him," Tom snarled as his wand free hand slotted into Harry's own. Tom began moving quickly down the corridor.

"Wait," Harry dug in his heels as Tom jolted to a halt.

Dobby was still standing there unmoving, his eyes unseeing. Tom was reluctant to stop, or to let go of Harry for that matter.

"Dobby, he's here isn't he? In the manor?" Harry asked.

For a moment, Dobby didn't respond and Harry had one fleeting moment of hope before the elf nodded once.

A chill ran down Harry's spine as he remembered those intense red eyes on that horribly disfigured face.

"Don't think on it, we'll get out," Tom said as he heaved the cloak back over Harry's shoulders, although Tom wouldn't quite meet Harry's gaze. "Come on, let's keep moving."

They left Dobby standing in the corridor, his eyes still brimming with tears.

* * *

Harry and Tom jumped at almost every creak or lack of noise for that matter. Despite being hidden, it didn't help that Harry was convinced he kept feeling Voldemort breathing down his neck.

Tom led the way, wand in hand and confident in every footstep. It was only when Tom moved to open a door to their right did Harry pull his hand out of Tom's.

"I don't think this is a good idea-" Harry started, but Tom had already pushed it open to reveal a much fancier bedroom than their own.

It was decorated from top to bottom in Slytherin green and had a number of large quidditch posters attached to the walls. Draco was fast asleep with Adara curled up on his pillow.

"Tom, don't-" Harry whispered as Tom stepped out from underneath the cloak.

"He's not going to do anything," Tom said and he aimed his wand at the bed.

The bed lurched, jutting up with a sharp but silent bump. Draco shot up, swearing as he blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the dark room. Adara was up quicker, hissing and spitting at the interruption.

"What the-" Draco faulted as soon as his saw Tom's wand pointing straight in his face. He pulled a disgruntled face as he scowled at them both. "You seriously couldn't wait until morning?"

Not noticing the complete confusion that had crossed both Harry and Tom's faces, Draco stumbled off his bed. Still disorientated from sleep, Draco fumbled around before retrieving a small brown package from his bedside table.

"Happy Birthday," Draco yawned as he shoved it into Harry's hand. Adara looked even less enthusiastic than Draco, as she settled down on the pillow once more.

Harry stared at it. After the quidditch match yesterday, he hadn't expected to get a gift as well.

"Oh, thanks, I'll open it later," Harry said as he stuffed it into his pocket.

"Wait, so you wake me up and you're not even going to open it now?" Draco said, as he attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes.

It was Tom who answered, as he held out his free hand expectantly.

"Actually, we came for something else. I need your wand," Tom said.

In an instant, Draco tied eyes widened as Adara jolted awake properly this time.

"My wand?"

Harry hedged closer to Draco's bay window, down below shadows of the mansion cast across the grass. A number of lights were spread out across the grounds.

"Tom, stop terrorising Draco, we're not meant to be using magic outside of school anyway," Harry said.

Tom rounded on him instead.

"Harry, if Death Eaters come through those doors, do you think you can fight them?"

Of course he couldn't. Wand or no wand. Tom knew that.

Harry shook his head.

"Well you're going to have to, and I will do my best to cover you, but we might need to fight."

Adara had shrunk to a small ball, as Draco took a single step back.

"Harry, what's going on-"

They didn't have much time left. Harry glanced out the window again before he sighed.

"Fine."

Tom turned back to Draco which caused Adara to move off the bed and retreat underneath his feet.

"It's my wand-" Draco started. "I can't-"

But he fell silent at Tom's fierce look.

"You'll get it back."

But Draco never got to reply as there was a loud knock at Draco's door.

All of them froze.

Tom leveled his wand at Draco's head as Harry rushed to retrieve the cloak to haul it back over them.

"Not a word," Tom hissed.

Draco shook his head as he dived back into bed. He barely had time to throw the covers over himself when his bedroom door opened.

Fortunately, this intruder wasn't wearing any Death Eater robes and he was followed by a familiar peahen.

"Mmm," Draco said and he rubbed his eyes as Adara raised her head and yawned.

"Draco, I hope I didn't wake you?" Lucius Malfoy said as light instantly flooded the room.

Beady peahen eyes scanned right over the spot where Harry and Tom remained hidden. Draco rolled over to pull Adara closer. He didn't say anything.

"He's done this before," Harry whispered.

"Shh."

Lucius Malfoy wasn't watching his son. His own eyes were following his dæmons as he scanned over the bedroom.

"Harry and Tom haven't been here have they?" he asked.

There was silence.

"Draco?"

"No," Draco mumbled.

Unfortunately, Chandraki gave a single shrill call.

"Draco," Lucius said, voice suddenly stern. "Do not lie to me."

Draco pulled himself up, rubbing his eyes as he shielded them from the light.

"Fine, they were here," Draco said causing Harry's heart to skip a beat. "But we were just discussing the match, I mean did you see that move Horton's dæmon-"

"How long ago, Draco?"

Draco huffed.

"I've been asleep, I don't know."

Harry would have laughed at the expression Lucius Malfoy was pulling if the situation hadn't been so dire. Adara remained curled up, basically asleep, which was no doubt to hide away from Chandraki.

"Draco, this is important," Lucius Malfoy said.

"Well it was past midnight," Draco said as he stifled a yawn. "I gave Harry his birthday present."

"And where did they go then?"

Draco lay back down, pulling the covers so they were right over his head.

"I don't know-" And this time Draco's voice sounded totally guilty.

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy repeated. "Do not make-"

"Fine," Draco said sitting up suddenly, throwing the covers back as he crossed his arms. Adara too looked much more awake as she hissed towards Chandraki.

"Harry wanted to go flying. I said he could use my broom."

The knot in Harry's stomach unravelled almost as quickly as it had formed. Draco was a genius. And this time, Lucius Malfoy seemed to buy it.

"I'm going to lock you in, Draco," he said.

Draco only mumbled in response as Chandraki ruffled her feathers, neck craning to to sweep her gaze over the room one last time. They were plunged into darkness as the door clicked shut.

No one moved for a good minute, not until they heard the steady pace of footsteps leading away from the door. Harry tiptoed out from underneath the cloak to press his head up against Draco's door.

"Thanks," Harry said as Tom's wand lit up the room.

Adara shifted onto Draco's shoulder as he sat up, barely stifling another yawn as he stretched.

"So you're leaving, right?" Draco said.

"Looks like it," Harry said.

Tom tapped their wand against his leg, as he fixed Draco with a very hard stare.

"Your wand," Tom repeated, hand held out.

Draco sighed, as Adara jumped off his shoulder to duck her head under Draco's pillow.

"Just promise me I'll get it back before Hogwarts? Father will kill me if he thought I'd lost it."

Adara skipped across the floor, before she dropped it at Tom's feet. Tom knelt down to pick it up. He weighed it in his hands as he inspected it.

"Hawthorn wood with unicorn hair," Draco said as he puffed up his chest.

Harry glanced between them. Draco really needed to quit obeying everything Tom wanted, it was bad enough that he didn't question what they were up to. It would only go to Tom's head.

Tom seemed happy enough, as he pocketed Draco's own wand and passed Harry's own wand back to him.

Draco beamed and he still seemed eager to impress.

"You should use the floo then," Draco said. "That's probably the easiest way."

Harry blinked.

"Excuse me?" Tom said.

"The fireplace in the dining room," Draco said. "Use the floo powder on the mantle piece."

Harry and Tom looked at each other, still none the wiser. Draco gave them a funny look before he smirked.

"Wow, growing up with muggles must really have sucked. Just throw the floo powder in the fire and say your destination."

"And we can go anywhere?" Tom asked with a raised eyebrow.

"The floo network is managed by the ministry. Everyone is connected up," Draco answered.

Harry smiled but Tom's expression only darkened.

"It won't work," Tom said. "That'll be the reason we travelled by portkey yesterday."

"But we only need to find the floo powder, right?" Harry said.

Tom shook his head.

"It'll have been shut off ever since we got here."

"It can't have," Tom's brow creased as Harry continued. "If its shut off it'll surely draw attention to the ministry. I'm guessing if someone wanted to visit them they don't want it blocked? I mean it's not great, but it's worth a try at least."

Tom looked unconvinced as he shook his head and crossed his arms.

"I suppose it's the best option we have," he relented with a final sigh. "We'll start looking downstairs."

Harry slipped the cloak back over his head as Tom unlocked the door with one flick of Draco's wand. He peered his head round the door to check if the corridor was clear. Lucius Malfoy had gone.

"Don't lose my wand," Draco whispered as he shut his bedroom door behind them.

* * *

Harry and Tom's journey down to the dining room was quiet. They didn't see a single Death Eater and Lucius Malfoy didn't reappear. The corridors were lit in candlelight and a number of portraits were grumbling at the disturbance.

Harry was trying to ignore the horrible thought stirring in the back of his head. The floo powder was really a long shot and they both knew it.

At least Voldemort didn't have the guillotine. Harry would barely be able to hold his resolve if he knew that was waiting for him.

"I don't like this one bit," Tom said after they reached the bottom of the main staircase. "It's too quiet."

"That's not a bad thing-"

And then Harry's scar erupted.

Tom reacted on instinct as he clamped his hand over Harry's mouth. Harry screamed, his eyes rolling back into his head as he collapsed back into Tom's grip.

"Harry-" Tom started. But it was burning so fiercely, Harry kicked back as he struggled.

"Clear your head, now!" Tom said.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps.

"Harry, please," Tom said.

Their nearest exit, aside from straight out into the expanse of the grounds, was a single large door leading off to the right.

"Tom, what's-" but Harry's voice slipped into another groan.

It wasn't locked.

Tom paused on the threshold, but the footsteps were only getting louder. It was a large ballroom type room, much longer and grander than the Malfoy's dining room. A handsome, ornate mantelpiece stood with a gilded mirror frame on top. And much like the rest of the manor it was lined with even more portraits.

Despite exploring all of the manor, Harry had no recollection of ever being in here. As soon as Tom had dragged him inside, he moved his hand onto Harry's burning forehead.

"You need to concentrate," Tom said. "Clear your mind, don't let Voldemort find you."

"Stop it," Harry said deliriously as he attempted to push Tom away. Everything felt fuzzy, as if his eyes were shifting to another perspective entirely.

Tom's comfort felt so foreign, like the hum of Voldemort was overwhelming and intrusive.

"There's no way out is there?" Harry mumbled.

Tom's expression tightened.

"I won't let him take you."

The footsteps were ricocheting in Harry's head, as if it was Harry himself walking towards the room, hand opening the door. It opened from both perspectives, and thankfully this was enough to pull Harry back into his own head.

Quirrell was alone.

Harry and Tom watched, scar still fierce as Quirrell stepped across the room, hands crossed behind his back as he paused in front of the unlit fireplace.

They couldn't move.

Voldemort spoke suddenly, his voice hissing.

"Riddle, a word."

For one horrible moment, Harry thought he meant Tom. Tom's mouth had fallen open, confusion rippling between their bond.

And then their was the distinct sound of footsteps coming from right behind them. Tom jolted, head turning as Harry felt sickness rise up from his stomach.

They hadn't been alone.

Yet, if this hadn't been gut wrenching enough. The person stepped just inches past them, so close that Harry could feel the hem of their cloak snag slightly.

He was tall, handsome and so achingly familiar, and if Harry hadn't known any better he'd have been convinced he was deluded.

It was Tom.

Or at least there was a horrible degree of similarity.

This Tom was a few years older and he was completely translucent, just like any other dæmon. He came to a stop a few feet in front of Quirrell. Quirrell raised his hands to his turban. Harry hissed, but it was muffled once again from Tom's hand tight over his mouth.

Voldemort's gruesome twisted face was just as horrific, his skin still stretched and his horrible pupil red eyes pierced straight through Harry's soul.

Riddle's head dipped into a very subtle nod.

"My Lord, if I could be so bold. Perhaps another-" his voice was deeper than Tom's but there was no mistaking the same tone, the same expression, the same everything.

And then Voldemort was hissing causing a fresh wave of searing pain through Harry's head.

"It has to be the boy."

Riddle nodded, but not before his eyes swept directly over where Harry and Tom were hiding.

"You believe they're still in the manor?"

Harry's breath all but left his chest. Riddle knew they were here.

"The boy is close, I can feel his fear," Voldemort hissed.

"Perhaps. At least they can't escape," Riddle crossed his arms and a small smirk graced his lips. "At least not without help."

Harry wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. Not when Tom's grip had tightened, his own heart beating fiercely against Harry. This wasn't possible.

Voldemort's red eyes narrowed and Quirrell took a definite step backwards so that Voldemort was closer.

"What are you implying?" Voldemort hissed.

Riddle dipped his head again.

"Tom is part of you, My Lord and more than capable of outsmarting your Death Eaters. It would not surprise me if my brother has managed to find a way to get Potter out. Therefore perhaps another-"

Voldemort's red eyes were so intense, a horrible snarl twisting on his lipless face.

"Only Potter's blood will suffice, only his blood will rebuild my body stronger than before-"

Tom jarred forwards, hand white as sparks threatened to spit from Draco's wand. He wasn't the only one who acted quickly, as his counterpart took a step closer to Voldemort, his voice slightly raised.

"My Lord, I meant no offence. I'm merely suggesting that you should not delay. If you let me-" Riddle said.

"You will remain here, as we have discussed previously," Voldemort hissed. "Do you understand?"

Riddle leaned back and rested his arm on top of one of the armchair which surrounded the fireplace.

"Completely."

And this time his voice was colder.

That earned another flash of pain through Harry's scar.

"Well I assume you called me out to see if they've been here?" Riddle asked. At Quirrell's curt nod, Riddle sighed. "I believe my brother avoids this room, he has never set foot here."

This seemed to satisfy Voldemort as Quirrell began placing the turban carefully back on his head.

"And you cannot detect the boys location?" Quirrell asked as Voldemort's gruesome face disappeared from view.

"No, it is blocked," Riddle replied curtly.

Harry frowned as Tom shared a quick glance with him.

"If you can tempt them in here, call me at once," Voldemort hissed.

Harry glanced towards the only exit which Quirrell had just started to move towards. Tom shook his head.

"He'll lock us in," Harry hissed.

It happened at once, Quirrell paused, head turning sharply with wand already in hand. Tom's counterpart was just as fast, taking a single step to the side so that he stood directly between them and Voldemort.

"Apologises, My Lord," Riddle started at once. "You said to entice them in, I'm sure you don't mind if I stretch my limitations."

Harry couldn't breathe.

Voldemort hissed something, but Harry didn't understand as Riddle hissed back, hand gesturing upwards.

Quirrell nodded once and stepped out of the room. Harry's scar went immediately from a horrible burning to a soft numbness.

And then Riddle's eyes were focused exactly on where they were standing. He didn't say anything at first, head tilting to the side as a thin smirk crossed his face.

"You can remove that cloak now."

It was a soft command but still a command none the less.

Harry wanted to do anything but. It was just wrong. How could Voldemort's soul be split any further. Tom held his wand straight as he let go of Harry for the first time, he took a careful step forwards, the cloak falling from their shoulders.

His counterpart only raised an eyebrow, as he remained leaning against the armchair, eyes sweeping over Harry and Tom in their night clothes.

They really did look identical. Although Harry didn't need them standing near each other to know that. He knew Tom by heart.

"You're like me?" Tom said, his own voice was surprisingly steady considering the tension running between them.

Riddle nodded, eyes glistening.

"Obviously."

"But you're not attached to anyone?" Tom said quickly.

Riddle's expression darkened, and Harry was instantly reminded of Tom's face from behind the bars from the guillotine. It was nothing but cruel.

"I'm attached to our Lord, as are you," Riddle said coolly. "However, you seem to need reminding of that fact."

Tom's fist tightened but this didn't seem to phase his counterpart as he only drummed his fingers on top of the chair.

"Are you going to attack me?" Riddle was grinning now, eyes alight with amusement.

He flickered.

Tom levelled his wand, unsure how to react.

"Why didn't you tell Voldemort we were here? What do you want?" Tom said.

Riddle tilted his head as he focused completely on Harry.

"I want _Harry_."

Harry was sure his heart skipped a beat. Tom however didn't hesitate, a curse hissing on his lips as he stepped directly in front of him. Riddle didn't even move as Tom's curse went straight through him.

"You misunderstand, I don't mean in the immediate future or indefinitely," Riddle said plainly.

"Because that's so much better," Tom snapped.

Harry's scar twinged, and for a sudden horrible moment he thought Voldemort had returned. Riddle crossed his arms and gave Tom a very sharp look.

"You are fortunate. You are bound to a living being, you are ground and whole," he smiled suddenly at Harry, just like Tom always did. "Although Harry isn't exactly whole at the moment," Riddle added.

It was horrible how he kept using Harry's name, like he knew Harry completely.

"That doesn't affect anything, the answer still no," Tom hissed.

"We never do like to share our things," Riddle said and this time he held up his hands. "I'm merely asking to borrow him, when the time comes."

Tom was shaking, every ounce of possessiveness coursing through Harry's very being.

"Borrow me for what?" Harry said. Why couldn't Riddle look more like Voldemort.

"As Tom so dutifully noted, aside from our Lord, I am not bound to a living person," Riddle said.

"And you want me?" Harry said, sickness rising.

"Not exactly," Riddle replied, although that didn't exactly reassue Harry's thoughts. "I merely want to use you for a time being, until I can obtain what I am looking for. I'm sure you of all people appreciate how it feels to be incomplete."

Harry's mind flew back to Lyra and her always lingering absence. Harry was empty, incomplete and he would remain so until she returned.

"In exchange for what?" Harry said.

"Harry, no-" Tom started, both anger and despair flaring.

But Riddle took a single step forwards, ignoring his counterpart as he surveyed Harry.

"I can get you out of here."

Tom snapped round at that.

"Tom-" Harry started. If anything this sounded worth it.

"I'll do it," Tom said at once.

Riddle actually laughed at this.

"No, it has to be Harry. Your form is worthless to me."

So it was okay for Tom to do it, but not Harry. Harry clenched his fists, scar stabbing. Tom always made the decisions and what other options did they have.

"Okay," Harry said. "When?"

Riddle smiled, brightly this time.

"The time is irrelevant, I will find you."

If that wasn't ominous enough.

"Harry, you can't trust him," Tom said, pulling Harry close so he could hiss under his breath. "He'll hurt you-"  
"Well doesn't that sound familiar," Harry snapped as he pulled himself away.

Tom bristled, eyes full of hurt.

"The cost is too high," he argued.

"Higher than what, than putting me in that guillotine? Cause go on Tom, I'd love to hear what could be worse than that?" Harry said.

Tom flinched, finger's withdrawing from Harry as if scolded.

"You did what you thought was right for me and paid the consequences. Why is it any different for me?"

"Because you don't know what the consequences will be," Tom said, his voice had dropped to a whisper now, eyes pouring into Harry's, pleading with him to understand.

Harry spared a look Riddle who was watching their exchange with rapt attention.

"You'd do anything to get me out of here," Harry said quietly.

Tom nodded, jaw tightening.

"Anything, you know that."

"So why is it different for me?" Harry said.

Tom opened his mouth to this before he shut it quickly and looked away.

"Voldemort will show you no mercy. Not after what you have done," Harry added. "Plus it'll only be temporally and we can get out of here."

"But-"

Harry gave Tom a very hard stare. Tom shifted, he reached out to grip Harry's arm.

"Harry, please-"

Harry glared at him. "Well unless you have a better idea? I don't fancy our chances staying here."

Tom's desperation was overwhelming.

"Voldemort can't have you," Tom whispered before he gestured to Riddle, he looked ready to try and curse him again. "And that includes him."

Harry glanced at Riddle who only flashed a familiar smile back. Harry's burning scar was a constant reminder that they were running out of time.

"I already agreed," Harry said. "I'm not going back on it now."

Tom's shoulder's sagged but he didn't say a word. He didn't have any right to object.

"Good," Riddle said, almost business like as he stepped away from the chair for the first time.

He made to make his way closer to Harry but Tom deliberately moved in front of him.

"Why would you prevent Voldemort from regaining his body anyway?" Tom snapped.

Riddle didn't answer, instead he raised the hand that had been drumming on the chair.

Harry and Tom jumped as a fire erupted right behind where Quirrell had been standing. It was red for a moment before it flickered into a bright green flame illuminating the room with a odd glow.

It didn't look like Riddle had used any floo powder.

"Go on then, you should leave now," Riddle nodded towards the fire. "While you still can."

Harry swallowed, he hoped this was worth it.

Tom didn't hang around, his hand curling around Harry's wrist in a rush to separate him and Riddle.

They stepped onto the hearth as the flames stretched out towards them. Harry flinched but they merely licked around them painlessly.

"Until we are better acquainted then, Harry," Riddle flashed Harry another very deliberate smile.

Harry coughed, lungs already flooding with soot and ash as Tom held him close.

It happened instantly, Harry and Tom's feet whizzed from beneath them as they went hurtling into the fireplace.


	21. Chapter Twenty One

Harry's knees buckled as he was launched out of the fireplace. Instead of having time to catch his balance however, Harry went tumbling onto a large stone hearth as Tom crashed into the back of him. They landed in a sprawled heap, heads spinning from their dizzying journey through the floo.

Harry blinked back the spinning room as Tom fumbled desperately with Draco's wand. It took a moment for Tom to hold it steady, but when he did, thick blade flames erupted from its tip to burst into the fireplace.

Harry shuffled back, narrowly avoiding the violently spitting embers. He cast a glance at Tom.

"I don't think he followed us-" Harry started as he made to untangle himself.

Tom's free arm shot out, gaze still captivated by the flames, as he grabbed Harry's wrist.

"He can't have you, I won't let him take you-" Tom said, and although his voice was steady, Harry could feel Tom's tremors and the hurt pouring into him.

"You can't promise that, I agreed to it," Harry said quietly. "Riddle will have me one way or another."

Tom's expression darkened at this, but at least his grip loosened which allowed Harry to pull himself up from the floor. Riddle's price had been high, but surely the consequences of remaining trapped in the manor were worse.

"Anyway, it's not like I can help Riddle much at the moment, we're still in school-" Harry started.

"You don't need to defend your actions, Harry," Tom said sharply. "I just don't want him anywhere near you."

Harry crossed his arms as Tom pulled himself up to stand beside him.

"I can look after myself," Harry said.

Tom smiled at this, but only briefly before he fixed Harry with a very hard stare. When Tom spoke, his voice was cold and nothing but cruel.

"If I'm capable of sticking you in that cage, don't think he isn't."

Harry's mind flashed back, terror flooding through his veins, creeping into his very soul. It took a moment to find his voice and it sounded hollow and pathetic even to his own ears.

"I know that."

Tom's expression didn't change, instead he moved his fingers to tug around Harry's night clothes, pulling him closer.

"Do you?" Tom said so softly, his voice barely a whisper in Harry's ear. "Because Riddle has no attachment to you. He will use you only for his own personally gain."

With every heart beat, Harry could feel the terror from his nightmares coming to life, Tom's cruel glint matching his memories and the sense of overwhelming dread.

Harry shoved Tom away.

"Stop treating me like an idiot," Harry snapped, cheeks burning. "You think I don't know that?"

But the feeling was still there, the betrayal of Tom's actions cutting horribly deep that Harry would never be able to shake them. It happened instantly, all the hostility drained from Tom's face. His shoulder's sagged, eyes cast downwards as he took Harry's hand in his own.

"Please, Harry. I just don't want you to forget, I don't want him to hurt you like I have," Tom said quietly.

Harry faltered for the briefest of seconds.

"If you're trying to get me to feel sorry for you?"

Tom looked up, expression set.

"I'm not."

They held each others gaze before Harry looked away first, mouth dry. What was he supposed to say to that. Tom however, didn't seem to expect a response as he turned to observe their surrounding.

They were standing in a small dark kitchen, lit only by the black crackling fire. There was a scrubbed wooden table which had a number chairs spread around it. On the mantelpiece sat several books which had very un-muggle titles. A clock on the wall gave no indication of their time but it must still have been a few hours from sunrise.

"Come on," Tom said and he slipped his fingers into Harry's own. "Let's have a look around."

The house was unlike any Harry had ever been in. Instead of the grand rooms of Malfoy manor or the spotless rooms of Privet Drive, this house was by far the most lived in.

A scruffy red haired wizard waved at them from a nearby photograph, as they weaved themselves past the jumbled and cluttered array of furniture.

The next room happened to be a comfortable looking lounge. Harry pointed towards a very smart looking clock propped up next to another fireplace.

Instead of the usual hands, the clock had nine golden hands, each for one member of the Weasley family. Currently, most were pointed towards home, while a single hand belonging to Mr Weasley was directed at work.

"Ron's house?" Tom said. "Why did Riddle send us here?"

Harry shrugged. It was where he had wanted to go after all.

Tom seemed to realise this as he rounded on Harry again.

"Don't let Riddle in your head, Harry."

Harry rolled his eyes at this as he slumped down on a old squashy sofa.

"So what do we do now?" Harry said.

Tom looked less than impressed, but thankfully he didn't press Occulumency further as he stifled a yawn.

"Sleep," Tom said. "No one will be awake yet, and I'm sure the morning is going to be interesting."

* * *

Harry woke to a loud squeak and the sound of hooves.

His eyes blinked open, disorientated at the strange noise and the lack of a familiar hangings above his head. Tom was already awake and his shadowed eyes looked back at him as Harry's memories of the night before trickled back.

They were lying with their head and shoulders next to each other and their feet at opposite ends of the squashy sofa. Tom twisted around, so that his breath tickled Harry's face.

"Any nightmares?"

Harry paused for a moment before he shook his head.

"Mmm," Tom said. "I didn't think so."

Harry frowned but Tom didn't elaborate as there was the sound of footsteps, only this time they were accompanied by a loud bark.

"Harry!"

Ron appeared in the doorway and he was beaming from ear to ear. Sephronia barked happily, as she skirted around Ron's ankles.

Harry pulled himself up with a wide grin. Tom face was indifferent despite the flood of annoyance that ricocheted through Harry.

"You never said you were coming over?" Ron said as he beckoned them both to follow him into the kitchen. Sephronia skipped ahead of them, weaving in and out of all the precarious looking obstacles.

"I didn't think the Malfoy's would ever let you visit," Ron added. "I asked Dad if he'd speak to Malfoy's dad at work, but he said that wouldn't be a good idea. I guess that's the Ministry's doing?"

Harry couldn't help but exchange a look with Tom at this.

The scrubbed wooden table they had seen earlier was now occupied by the Weasley twins and their dæmons. Mrs Weasley was busy hovering over a large frying pan.

"Mum, look who turned up in the night," Ron beamed as he gestured at Harry.

The twins turned to look at them.

"I like the new look," Fred said with a nod at Harry as he chucked Celendria a piece of bacon. "But I guess you're famous, you can pull off the pajamas's covered in ash look."

Harry flushed as he attempted to bat some of the soot off his clothes. They'd been so preoccupied last night, neither Harry or Tom had bothered cleaning themselves up. It wasn't like he had any of his stuff with him either. George snickered as Demetria sat pining for some of his own breakfast.

"Harry, dear, we weren't expecting you!"

Mrs Weasley was just like how Harry remembered, bright red hair like her children and with Caedmon, her honey badger eyeing up Fred and George's dæmons warily. In a moment though, his eyes had flicked onto Tom. Mrs Weasley waved her wand in the direction of the sink which promptly began filling itself.

"I hope you don't mind?" Harry said. It wasn't as if him and Tom had anywhere else to go.

Mrs Weasley's smile didn't falter, but Caedmon was unnervingly still.

"Oh, no not at all dear. Ron's clothes should fit you," Mrs Weasley said, and with a sharp flick of her wand, a pair of muggle looking clothing sailed across from a drying clothes rack in the corner.

"Thanks," Harry said as he was pointed in the direction of the bathroom. Tom hesitated for the briefest of moments, before Harry grabbed his sleeve to tug him along.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry said as he held his head over the sink. He ran his hands through it in an attempt to get the dust out.

Tom only flicked Draco's wand causing the hairs on the back of Harry's head to stand on end as all the grime lifted from him instantly.

"I don't think we should stay here much longer," Tom said.

Harry fixed him a look as he threw a clean shirt over his head. He passed the other to Tom.

"Is this because of Riddle?" Harry said, "He's not going to follow us here."

Tom didn't reply to this, instead he only gripped Draco's wand tighter. Harry rolled his eyes. He would have pressed Tom on the matter, but the smell of breakfast and his rumbling stomach was enough to make him leave it for now.

They returned to find Mrs Weasley putting a couple of plates full of sausages, eggs and bacon out for them. Harry sidled into the bench beside Ron, pulling Tom with him.

"Where's your sister?" Mrs Weasley asked Ron. "I thought she was already awake."

Fred and George snickered as their huskies fought over more scraps of bacon. Ron who had his mouth full of breakfast, mumbled something incoherent as Sephronia jumped up onto the bench beside him.

Harry had just started tucking into his breakfast when he heard the sound of hooves again.

A very timid Ginny Weasley peered into the kitchen, she had one hand wrapped in her pony's mane. She skirted to sit at the far end of the table as her gaze flicked to Harry. Her cheeks burned bright red and she looked away.

Ron hadn't noticed any of this as he swallowed his mouthful and rummaged in his pocket.

"I was going to send this with Errol this morning, but it's probably better he didn't have to make the journey. I'm guessing Hedwig is off with Hermione?"

Harry felt a sudden rush of guilt. He didn't know if Hedwig was still trapped back in Malfoy Manor. Tom seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Dobby will sort her out," Tom whispered.

Ron presented Harry with a small present which looked like it had Sephronia teeth shaped tears in the side of.

"Happy Birthday, Harry."

It was a large box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry beamed.

And then Harry remembered the other present he had yet to open. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the roughly wrapped present from Draco. Harry tore the wrapping paper off.

It was a pocket book on the British and Irish Quidditch League, including various techniques on broomstick manoeuvres. Inside was a note scribbled from Draco, it read. _Don't forget try-outs_.

"Try outs?" Fred said as he peered over Harry's shoulder. "You're trying out for the team?"

Harry shrugged as Ron gaped.

"You actually got back on a broom?" Ron said.

"Well Draco wouldn't shut up about it," Harry said. "And then yesterday we went to a Quidditch match-"

"You went to the Falcon and Magpie game?"

And then all the Weasley's were crowded around him, even Ginny who had had been hiding behind her dæmon's mane poked out to listen.

"The last match Dad took us to was the Kestrals and Wasps game, that was ages ago mind."

"Well your dad can't always get tickets now, can he?" Mrs Weasley said as she put a fresh rack of toast out.

Just then, the front door slammed.

"Speaking of Dad, looks like him and Temmie are home," George said as both his and Fred's huskies were off, bouncing around the room with Caedmon growling at them to calm down.

Sure enough, a thin looking man dressed in long wizarding robes appeared in the kitchen.

"Did you get anything good, dad?" George started.

Mr Weasley slumped down in a kitchen chair and removed his glasses. His dæmon, Temmie, was a small weasel. Caedmon skipped across the floor and Harry watched as the small honey badger brushed faces in greeting.

"Arthur, are you alright?" Mrs Weasley.

Mr Weasley rubbed his eyes as his dæmon jumped up to rest in his lap. She settled down with a wide yawn.

"What a night! The whole ministry is in an uproar," Mr Weasley said.

"What happened, dad?" Fred said, sitting up eagerly as Celendia clambered over Demetria.

Mr Weasley sighed.

"Harry Potter is missing. Apparently there was some sort of disturbance at Malfoy Manor, not that the auror's are saying anything at all."

Every pair of eyes slipped across the table to Harry and Tom and even Celendia and Demetria quietened.

Harry suddenly found his half eaten toast very interesting.

"Neat," George said.

"Are you on the run or something?" Fred asked.

Harry shuffled, but Tom looked relatively unsurprised.

Ron bit his lip, clearly wanting to say something he shouldn't in company. Sephronia barked loudly.

Mr Weasley ran his hand over his face, eyes blinking open. His gaze found Tom first before settling across to Harry. It seemed to take him a moment for the realisation that Harry Potter was sitting at his kitchen table.

He sighed heavily and adjusted his glasses.

"I suppose I better take you both in," he said.

"But they've only just arrived," Mrs Weasley said as Caedmon shuffled around her feet. "They should at least finish breakfast?"

"Yeah, we should at least wait until they offer some sort of reward money," Fred chipped in, before ducking down at both his parents glares.

"Molly, they have the entire auror department on red alert," Mr Weasley said before his eyes shot warily back to Harry and Tom. He cleared his throat as his weasel shuffled. "You've been officially reported missing, it's all over the prophet."

Mr Weasley reached into his robes and pulled out a paper and set it down on the table. Mrs Weasley looked less than impressed as she glared coldly at her husband.

"The Ministry can wait," she snapped. "Goodness knows they have put them through enough."

At this Mrs Weasley gestured to the photograph. Harry peered forwards to get a better look of a large headline with the photograph Rita Skeeter had published last year. He had forgotten how ill he looked. It had been taken just after Lyra had left.

Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips as Caedmon snarled.

"Molly, the Ministry believe they've been taken by-" Mr Weasley glanced around, very concious that his children were hanging onto his every word. "Well by his lot." Mr Weasley relented as he nodded at Tom.

"Mm," Tom agreed as he helped himself to more toast. "Death Eaters."

Mrs Weasley gasped as she clamped her hands over Ginny's ears.

"Mum!" Ginny said as Gallion neighed.

"Why is that a problem?" Fred said, as Celendia took a swipe at his toast. "Don't you control them?"

"Fred!" Mrs Weasley said.

"What?" Fred shrugged. "It's true though?"

Tom leaned forwards and nodded towards Harry.

"Unfortunately, when it comes to my Death Eaters our interests involving Harry differ somewhat."

Ron snorted at that causing Mrs Weasley to direct her glare at him instead.

"This is not a conversation for the breakfast table!" she started loudly.

Harry couldn't help but share a look with Ron at this. Ron, Sephronia, Hermione and Ramiron were the only people besides a certain few the Ministry who knew that the real Voldemort was attached to the back of Quirrell's head.

"Anyway," Tom continued. "It was better that we left the Malfoy's on our own accord. Anything that associates me with Death Eater isn't exactly great."

Ron snorted again.

Mr Weasley rubbed his eyes warily as if he was unsure how he'd come to have Harry and Tom sitting in his kitchen. Temmie was skirting around his plate now, glancing at Tom as if unsure how to cope with the fact the Dark Lord was sitting at their breakfast table.

Thankfully, Mr Weasley seemed more curious than anything else.

"Speaking of Lucius Malfoy?" Mr Weasley asked.

"Malfoy didn't associate himself as one of my Death Eaters," Tom said sitting back.

Harry frowned but Tom cut across him, answering Harry's unspoken question.

"We can't disprove whatever story Lucius Malfoy's comes up with," Tom said "We never saw Malfoy actually robed, we have no proof."

"Except your word," Harry said.

Tom laughed at this. "Right, the Ministry will really take my word over Malfoy's."

"So that's not true?" Mr Weasley said.

Tom flashed Mr Weasley a grin but he didn't offer more of an explanation, he didn't need to. Mrs Weasley slammed a pot down on the table causing everyone to jump.

"No discussing Death Eaters or Dark Lords at the table."

If anything the Weasley children looked mortified and even Mr Weasley looked slightly unsettled as each pair of eyes flicked across to Tom.

Tom however only smiled.

"Sorry, Mrs Weasley," Tom said.

Caedmon seemed satisfied at this as he nodded his head once. Temmie however was still skittish as she frittered around Mr Weasley's lap.

"Come on then," Mr Weasley pushed his uneaten breakfast aside. "We should leave or the auror's will be knocking down our front door."

Mrs Weasley shot him a glare at this, but this time she didn't protest, instead she crossed her arms and spoke tersely.

"Don't let them keep you long, Harry," Mrs Weasley said as she produced a a couple of old coats for them to wear. "I'll have a birthday cake waiting for you when you get back."

Mr Weasley disappeared upstairs only to reappear shortly after, now wearing an odd mixture of clothes. He had a stripped bowler hat on, with a pair of bright orange trousers.

"It's probably best we use the visitors entrance," Mr Weasley explained. "There's enough panic going on."

And so Harry found himself waving glumly at Ron and Sephronia as him and Tom followed Mr Weasley and Temmie out onto the lawn.

* * *

Travelling on muggle transport was as interesting as it had been with Hagrid and Illaria the first time. Instead of the staring eyes at the sheer size of Hagrid, Mr Weasley was having great fun examining all of the automatic ticket machines. Even Temmie was sniffing them suspiciously as Harry sorted out the tickets.

"Isn't it just fascinating?" Mr Weasley was muttering.

Tom on the other hand, wasn't having as much fun. The station was packed with muggles and he was having to cling as close to Harry possible.

Despite this, Harry still had no desire to get to the ministry quickly and weaving in and out of the crowds was almost worth not travelling by portkey or floo.

Unfortunately, it seemed like no time at all before they arrived outside a broken red telephone box. Mr Weasley promptly opened it and gestured for them both to shuffle inside.

"Umm, Mr Weasley, I don't think it works," Harry started as he squashed up against Tom.

But Mr Weasley was already picking up the broken receiver as Temmie hopped onto his shoulder.

"No no, I'm sure it works just fine," he smiled.

Mr Weasley seemed to hesitate for a moment as he chewed his tongue.

"Now, let's see here," he proceeded to dial in some numbers. "I think that's right."

It seemed to have done the trick for a bored women's voice suddenly spoke into the box.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and purpose."

Mr Weasley cleared his throat as he held the receiver. Temmie peered down into it, squeaking excitedly as he spoke awkwardly into it.

"Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Mr Harry Potter who's been reported missing."

"Thank you," said the cool female voice. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle.

A small square silver badge with _Harry Potter, Missing_ on it rattled out from the coin dispenser.

Harry shoved the badge into his pocket as the female voice spoke again. Harry wasn't listening though as Tom gripped his hand tightly.

"They won't use it," Tom whispered.

Harry nodded, but there was still the thought lingering horribly in the back of his mind. His own chest was tight, uncomfortable with the knowledge that buried deep below their feet was something metal, sharp and silver.

The telephone box descended rapidly, pulling them away from the light and into the depths of London. With a clunk, the telephone box slide neatly in to place, and the glass door sprung open.

Harry found himself staring at a familiar packed auditorium. Unlike before when they had arrived with Dumbledore in first year, the place was now heaving. Witches, wizards, dæmons and a whole host of creatures Harry had never seen before were filtering around the room.

Mr Weasley straightened his muggle attire as he lead Harry and Tom through the busy auditorium. Heads turned their way, dæmons shifting automatically away from Tom, but Harry hardly noticed.

Up ahead, witches, wizards and their dæmons emerged from a long row of gilded fireplace, just like Harry and Tom had done this morning.

"I don't think travelling the muggle way was for our benefit," Tom said, nodding towards Mr Weasley.

Harry's lips twitched at this but he couldn't shake the feeling that they'd exchanged one prison for another.

By the large fountain, four auror's were waiting in their scarlet robes. Harry noticed Tonks straight away despite her hair being blonde and curly this time round.

"Hi Harry," Tonks beamed as her Jack Rabbit thumped his feet against the dark wooden floor. Harry also recognised the auror with the Lynx dæmon. Kingsley had been there when Tom had placed Harry in the guillotine.

The other two wizards Harry didn't recognise, although he didn't fancy getting closer to the sharp teeth of the wolverine dæmon.

"Thank you, Arthur," Kingsley said, as he placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "We'll take Harry from here."

Mr Weasley ran his hand through his hair.

"Any chance we can get Harry back by lunch? Molly's baking him a cake."

Kingsley frowned and shook his head.

"I can't promise anything, but I'm going to say it's unlikely."

Harry slumped at this. His morning at the Weasley's had been enjoyable and it seemed apparent his day was only going to get worse.

After assuring Harry he'd hang around, Mr Weasley and Temmie were soon waving them goodbye as Kingsley steered Harry and Tom away.

Now they had the attention of nearly every witch, wizard and dæmon who passed. They all peered at Harry, eyes shooting to Tom when they thought they weren't looking.

Before they made it to the elevator, there was a flash of black smoke in Harry's face.

"Harry, Tom, how lovely to see both again."

Rita Skeeter's wide grin was beaming from behind her large spectacles. Again, her dæmon was no where to be seen but this time instead of her floating camera, a small scrawny wizard was behind her, a large camera clutched in his hands and a hummingbird hovering by his shoulder.

"Move along," Kingsley instructed but Skeeter only battered her hand, large crocodile handbag swinging from her arm.

"Harry was this another attempt by Death Eaters to rescue Tom from the control of the Ministry?" Skeeter dived in at once.

But Kingsley was already steering them away as one of the other auror's stepped straight in front of Rita Skeeter to block her access to them.

There was another flash of black smoke.

"Excuse me, sir," Tonks said, waving her wand to pull the camera expertly away from the camera man's grip. "Security and all that."

"Oi!"

But the camera had already gone up in its own puff of smoke.

Rita Skeeter leant back and she tapped her heel loudly on the floor. She gave Tonks a very deliberate smile before calling loudly for others to hear.

"We'll catch up soon, Harry. Many of my readers are desperate to here how you are getting on without your other dæmon-"

But her voice was already trailing away and Kingsley guided them towards the far end of the room.

A lift had just shifted into place and a number of people and dæmons filtered out into the auditorium.

"Clear the lift," Kingsley instructed.

The remaining witches and wizards grumbled and one old witch actually scooped up an equally old cat, and walked past them mumbling about 'auror's today'.

The lift was small and cramped and the grate which covered the door had thick golden grated laced across it. Harry froze, head spinning.

In every blink Harry could see the bars closing in around him, suffocating and cold. It was overwhelming in every sense, over powering and so horrendous that Harry couldn't breathe.

Tom moved quickly as he took both of Harry's hand in his own. He tugged Harry forwards in step with him. The grate slid across and Harry found himself staring nose to nose with Tom as his dread rocketed.

"Apparently Gryffindor haven't won the Quidditch house cup for a number of years," Tom said with a smile.

"I-What?"

But Tom wasn't waiting for him to catch up.

"I know Draco is adamant Slytherin will win this year, but if you get through try-outs, I'm sure you'll give them a run for their galleons."

Harry frowned.

"I thought you hated flying? Let alone when there are bludgers flying at your head?"

Tom shrugged with another smile as he ran his fingers lightly across Harry's palms.

"What's life without a little danger? Anyway, you're competent enough as long as you don't crash from all those crazy manoeuvres you do."

"I'm not going to crash!" Harry started, only to feel the jolt of the lift as it reached its destination.

"If you're done?" The auror with the wolverine grunted.

Harry turned to see the grates sliding open.

Tom dropped Harry's hands in an instant, eyes hollow and sad, but he didn't offer up any other conversation as he stepped past Harry to follow Kingsley and his dæmon out of the lift.

Harry hesitated, throat drying as he realised Tom's distraction. Harry followed numbly as he watched Tom walk on ahead.

Kingsley lead them down a long corridor to pass through a set of heavy oak doors. They emerged in a clustered area full of cubicles. It was certainly more welcoming than the courtroom or the holding cells deep below the Ministry, but still Harry didn't particularly like the number of red robed auror's that were mingling around.

Kingsley however lead them straight past all of that until they reached the office at the far end of the room.

A small sign was stuck on the door with the name R. Scrimgeour engraved on it.

"Good luck, Harry," Tonks winked at him before she and her other colleagues dispersed.

Harry and Tom were left standing beside Kingsley and his Lynx. She yawned and sat down on her hind legs, looking more than relaxed with her deep black eyes.

Kingsley knocked once and without waiting for an answer turned the brass handle to open the door. Kingsley stepped inside as his dæmon guided Harry and Tom forwards.

Scrimgeour was bent over his desk, head down over at least a dozen pieces of parchments as a quill scribbled furiously beside him. Above his head small paper planes spun around one after another as Nala watched. She looked tempted to pounce on them as her tail swung side to side on the desk.

"I said I was not to be disturbed under any circumstance," Scrimgeour said with a grunt. He moved his hand up suddenly and one of the small paper planes whizzed into his hand.

Scrimgeour unfolded it, read it briefly before he crumpled it into a ball. With a single flick of his wand, the quill jumped from one piece of parchment to another before it started scribbling hurriedly again.

"Fine, we'll just go then," Harry said. He made to move dodge past Kingsley, but Kingsley just rested his hand back on his shoulder again to keep him still.

Scrimgeour's head snapped up, quill stopping altogether now as it fell with a clatter onto his desk. Nala's large tabby eyes had peeled themselves off the small paper planes to fix sharply on Tom.

Scrimgeour looked less than impressed. He waved his wand causing his office door to slam shut with a bang.

"Where's Moody?" Scrimgeour said.

"Still at Malfoy Manor," Kingsley answered. "I believe he was going through Potter's belongings to see if they'd been tampered with."

Scrimgeour nodded once, before he straightened himself in his chair, as he stared at Harry.

"Start talking."

Tom opened his mouth but Nala hissed, back arching into the air as she bared her claws.

"Not you, Riddle."

Everyone's focus shifted across to Harry.

"There were Death Eaters," Harry said, crossing his arms as he glared at Scrimgeour.

Scrimgeour leaned back a cold look no his face as his quill started scribbling again.

"We're aware of that, Lucius Malfoy has given us a full brief of last nights events," Scrimgeour said which caused Tom's mouth to twitch. "What I want to know is your exact location during the night and why you only decided to show up now?"

Harry frowned as Tom opened his mouth. He promptly closed it when Nala rose, hissing and spitting in his direction. Scrimgeour only placed a hand on her head, steadying her in place.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry said.

"Where were you, Potter?" Scrimgeour said.

"We went straight to Ron's," Harry said. "It's not like we were going to hang about."

"And how did you get there?" Scrimgeour asked.

"We used the Malfoy's floo," Harry counted.

Scrimgeour rose his eyebrow at this, and now he leaned forwards, yellow eyes watching Harry very carefully.

"Funny thing is, Lucius Malfoy said he was out of floo powder and was only planning on picking more up in Diagon Alley today."

"Clearly he was mistaken," Harry said. Harry turned to Tom with a confused look on his face, they'd been the ones to be targeted so why were they on the receiving end of the hostility.

Tom was watching Nala warily, but he turned to Harry.

"He thinks we've been with Voldemort all night," Tom explained.

"Oh right," Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like he wants me dead or anything."

Scrimgeour did not look amused at this.

"Oh, come on. We didn't know you'd send a whole search party out," Harry said. "I didn't even think Malfoy would notice us missing."

"So the Dark Lord didn't offer you anything?" Scrimgeour pressed.

"What? No?"

Although Harry's heart was thumping rapidly now, did Riddle even count as Voldemort. Tom certainly didn't. Riddle looked more like Tom anyway.

"The Dark Lord is unable to to separate you currently, but he could always use you as a spy perhaps?" Scrimgeour said.

Harry didn't even know what exactly Riddle wanted yet. He knew Riddle it was something of his own to attach to, to be bound to, but that was vague in itself, Harry didn't even know how it was possible.

"We didn't even see Voldemort," Harry lied.

Scrimgeour looked less than convinced as he drummed his fingers sharply on the desk.

"And the Death Eaters?" he questioned.

"Well there were a few dotted around," Harry said. "We didn't exactly hang around to find out."

Nala hissed again, but this time Tom spoke, voice so deadly cold.

"We had an agreement."

Scrimgeour only smirked, eyes lighting up in dark amusement.

"The Minister is easy to persuade depending on public opinion," Scrimgeour said. "I, on the other-hand, must investigate all credible options."

Tom opened his mouth to protest, but Scrimgeour interrupted.

"Your wand," Scrimgeour demanded at Harry.

Harry was suddenly very reluctant to hand it over.

Tom was visibly angry now. Harry pulled it out of his pocket and held it for Scrimgeour to take.

Scrimgeour levelled his own wand and muttered something under his breath. Harry's wand seemed to react as something thin and wispy shot from the end of it as it formed a mini floating bed.

Scrimgeour raised his eyebrow.

"A levitation charm?"

"It's a first year spell," Harry said. "Tom hasn't touched my wand."

"Go on then," Scrimgeour placed the wand back on his desk as he gestured to Harry.

Harry swiped it back and cleared his throat as Scrimgeour's quill responded to hover high above his desk. A few drops of ink dripped onto the parchment below.

Scrimgeour still didn't look impressed, although Nala seemed slightly more appeased as she watched the hovering quill with interest.

"What did you use the spell for?" Scrimgeour asked.

Harry gritted his teeth, glad that whatever curse Tom had attempted to use on Riddle had been with Draco's wand.

"You are not allowed to use magic outside of school-" Scrimgeour started.

"Now Rufus, given the gravity of the situation, circumstances must be made," a painfully familiar voice spoke.

Scrimgeour's office door had swung open and Harry found his stomach sinking. Only Dumbledore could make their already dire situation worse.

"Good, Dumbledore, you're here," Scrimgeour said. He picked up his half scribbled piece of parchment, folded it neatly into a plane with his wand before it sailed out of his office door.

"We're going back to Hogwarts, aren't we?" Tom said quietly.

Dumbledore smiled.

"I'm afraid so, we can't have you disappearing again," Dumbledore said.

"Potter's safety cannot be guaranteed," Scrimgeour added. "If the Dark Lord can break into Malfoy Manor, or if indeed Potter is tempted to go wandering-"

"Can't I go back to Ron's?" Harry interjected.

Dumbledore shook his head with a small smile.

"I'm afraid not, Harry."

"We'll arrange for Potter's school things to be sent from the Malfoy's," Scrimgeour instructed.

"I'll get Moody to collect it," Kingsley said with a nod as he beckoned his dæmon. His Lynx dutifully followed as Harry and Tom were left with Dumbledore, Scrimgeour and Nala.

Dumbledore looked happy enough as he smiled at Harry.

"A few of our teachers have permanent residence within the castle," Dumbledore said. "I've already spoken to Hagrid and he seems quite happy to keep you occupied for the time being."

"Great," Harry mumbled, thinking dejectedly about the cake Mrs Weasley was making him.

Tom looked happy enough, and Harry suspected it was because Riddle wouldn't be able to follow them to Hogwarts. Or at least Harry certainly hoped so.

If only Harry had known that when it came to his deal with Riddle, he'd never regret anything more.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

"Potter!"

Harry jerked, his hand slipping from his cheek as his elbow fell off the edge of his desk.

"Wha-"

A wand tapped sharply in front of him as the skewed image of an angry Professor McGonagall blinked into view.

"Mr Potter, if my classes are so invigorating perhaps you'd like to spend some time in detention?"

Harry scrambled backwards as he pushed his glasses back into place.

Term had started three weeks ago and Harry was already struggling to adjust into any routine. It didn't help that he'd already landed himself in multiple detentions and lost Gryffindor at least twenty house points.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Harry hissed at Tom as the class began packing up their bags.

Tom who was finishing copying down McGonagall's notes didn't even look up.

"I thought you needed some sleep."

Harry flushed at this and he scrabbled to gather his own books and his wand which he'd somehow managed to knock onto the floor.

"I don't need sleep," Harry fumed.

Tom sighed and set down his own quill as he shifted his entire focus onto Harry. Harry jerked his eyes down as he swiped Tom's ink and parchment to shove into his bag.

"Your nightmares have been getting worse," Tom said.

"No they haven't-"

"You haven't even looked at me today!"

Harry stiffened but this ended any conversation. Without another word, Harry swung his bag over his back and marched after his fellow classmates.

Not that Harry got very far, Tom caught up with him a few steps into the corridor.

"Harry, wait-"

Tom's hand curled gently around Harry's wrist, tugging him to a stop.

The corridor was already emptying, the last few stragglers were eager to get back to their common rooms. Harry and Tom were left alone and Harry shifted on his feet, glancing in the direction of the staircase.

Tom's movements were deliberate and slow, obvious so that Harry knew exactly what he was doing as his fingers traced up Harry's arm and neck. Harry didn't resist, but his heart was thumping and his chest had started to tighten. Tom's fingers reached out to comb themselves into Harry's hair.

"It's okay, Harry," Tom said.

Harry jerked backwards, clammy hand knocking Tom's own away.

"I just can't Tom-" Harry said. "Please-"

Tom closed any distance between them in an instant, hand moving quickly this time as he slide it under Harry's chin and pulled Harry's terrified eyes up to his own level. Harry froze on the spot, like a rabbit caught in headlights as he stared into Tom's softened sad eyes.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Tom said.

Harry almost believed him.

"I'm trying, Tom," Harry whispered as he lowered his head. "I-I just want to go back to how we were at the end of summer." It wasn't even a question but it was still pleading and desperate.

Tom had been nothing but supportive for weeks, he'd been there in every capacity that Harry had needed ever since they'd returned to Hogwarts. But now Harry had come crashing down, he couldn't move on, his nightmares wouldn't let him.

Tom ducked so that he was peering up at Harry, head tilted as he gently brushed Harry's fringe back so he could see him clearly.

"Do you trust me?"

"I-" Harry started, but his voice froze up, his own head clamming up as his eyes betrayed what Tom had known all along.

Tom smiled sadly and he withdraw his hand.

"It's okay, Harry."

And Harry found himself almost wanting to lie, just so everything could go back to normal. But if only it was that simple, if only he could forget.

Of course, Tom knew this, he could read Harry so perfectly. So it was very slowly, that Tom's armed wrapped around Harry, entwining him into a tight hug. Harry melted into him. All anxieties and doubts left him in an instant as he fell into Tom's embrace.

"H-how are you doing that?" Harry gasped as his own fingers weaved into Tom's shirt, tugging him closer.

"The same way I was manipulating you in first year," Tom said quietly, voice so soft. "You're emotionally compromised without Lyra, you're broken and so very responsive to anything I wish of you."

The want to hang onto Tom and never let go was so overwhelming.

"Why haven't you done this before?" Harry asked as he burrowed his head into Tom's shoulder. It would have been so easy and Harry could have stayed like this forever, without a care in the world.

Tom was quiet, his hands weaving through Harry's hair as he hummed.

"Because I'm manipulating your emotions, Harry."

As if to prove his point, Tom stepped back suddenly and Harry found his own inhibitions flooding back.

His own fears, his own terrors but at the same time a longing desperation for more, that if he had Tom than nothing could go wrong.

Harry found his voice and it was stiff as he stared at Tom coldly.

"You've been letting me suffer when you could have done something all along?"

Tom's expression was so serious and he ran his own hand along Harry's arm, but this time there was no warmth, no instant relief.

"I can't stop your nightmares, Harry," Tom said.

"You could have helped afterwards," Harry snapped and he shoved Tom back hard.

Tom stumbled, his shirt creasing as he steadied himself, eyes shooting up to lock onto Harry.

"For mine or for your benefit?" Tom said, his voice holding calm. "Toying with your emotions is wrong, it stops you from being you. I don't want to change you, Harry, even though I could. If I wanted, I could mould you to whatever I desire."

"So you want to leave me broken?" Harry said. "Just so you can wallow in your own self guilt."

Tom closed the gap between them, arms either side of Harry against the wall so that he had no space to move.

"How are you supposed to heal?" Tom said. "If you pretend like it never happened? You said it yourself, you want things back to normal. How would you have felt if I had taken that decision from you? If I made you stop feeling how you actually should?"

Harry shut his mouth, finger's curling into Tom's shirt, not sure whether he wanted to push him away again or pull him close and never let him go.

"It wouldn't have fixed us, Harry. It would have been against your natural instinct-" Tom trailed off.

Harry took a steadying breath. His own thoughts now more confused than ever. He would never forgive Tom, not completely. But Harry craved normality, craved Tom more than he had let himself admit it in these last few weeks. Was he just tired of it all, or was Harry stronger than his nightmares, could he really move on.

Tom shifted so that they were only inches apart, yet their bond was normal, nothing like the flux of distorting emotions that Tom was capable of.

"If I can make it stop hurting, I will," Tom said quietly. "But only under one condition, and you have to answer honestly."

Harry couldn't speak. He could have Tom back, like really have Tom back, and not even his nightmares would stop that, not anymore. All he had to do was start trusting again.

"Hey, Potter!"

Harry flinched as he jumped away from Tom.

A smile flicked automatically onto Harry's face. He ignored Tom's burning gaze towards the interruption.

"So its Potter now?" Harry said as he called down the corridor.

Draco Malfoy was walking towards them a large beaming smile on his face. Adara was balanced on his shoulder and she squeaked happy as they approached.

Draco placed his hands on his waist and puffed out his chest.

"Well we're rivals now," he announced.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't think Wood had told anyone yet?" he said.

"Oh, come on, its obvious," Draco said as he battered his hand. "I watched the Gryffindor try-outs and you were the best by far. Not to forget, Wood looked like Christmas had come early, his dæmon nearly fell out of the sky."

Harry ran his hand through his hair as he glanced at Tom.

Tom however offered nothing to the conversation as he watched Draco with cold eyes. Adara seemed to notice as she shifted uncomfortably on Draco's shoulder.

"Anyway, I thought Flint wanted to keep your position secret?" Harry said.

Draco nodded and a grin split onto his face.

"But it's no fun if I can't brag about it, and it's not as if you haven't seen me fly before. Speaking of which, do you want a game?" Draco said. "Father's just brought me a new broom to celebrate and I thought you might want to try it out?"

Before Harry would have jumped at the opportunity for a distraction but now Harry just bit his lip.

"Sure," Tom said.

Harry spun round, mouth falling open, but Tom didn't offer anything but his cold indifference.

"You've got our first match coming up in November," Tom said. "You'll need all the practice you can get if you're going to beat Draco."

Draco beamed at this but Adara's eyes were wide, alarmed as she tried to decipher Tom.

"Are you coming then, Harry?" Draco asked.

Harry shifted on his feet before he relented with a nod.

Draco placed a hand on Adara, smiling as he made his way back down the corridor.

"You hate flying?" Harry muttered to Tom as they followed.

Tom shrugged.

"I want to borrow Draco's wand again."

"You could have just said," Harry said with a frown. "Draco would do anything if you told him to."

Tom shook his head as he pulled Harry''s hand into his own.

"I know but I think I need to make it up to him, Draco's father was furious when Draco told him he'd lost it."

* * *

Hallo'ween was approaching and with it Harry was starting to get the hang of some of the more technical aspects of magic.

The worst class by far however had been Defence Against the Dark Arts. At least in potions, Snape would spend most of the time ignoring them. Professor Lockhart, Quirrell's replacement, on the other hand, always found ways to drag Harry up to the front to help re-enact his adventures or Lockhart found ways to add Tom into his conversations. Fortunately, today was the latter.

"Oh, I could take on He Who Must Not be Named," Lockhart was boasting with a wink towards Harry. "If any of you indeed feel threatened, fear not, I will assist."

Tom was livid, teeth clenched together as Harry, Ron and Sephronia attempted to sniffle their laugher.

"You'll need more than Lockhart to save you," Tom hissed.

This only caused them to laugh harder.

"You Know Who defeated by a guinea pig," Sephronia said before quickly darting behind Ron's leg as Tom made a grab for Harry's wand.

Lockhart however was currently making a complicated flourishing motion with his wand and didn't notice.

Lockhart's dæmon, a chubby guinea pig called Minnie was attempting to balance precariously on the edge of his desk as part of Lockhart's re-enactment, only she nearly slipped off and Lockhart had to catch her.

Hermione had been beside herself at this but Ramiron had remained still eyeing the small guinea pig with much less enthusiasm. Sephronia seemed to notice as she then proceeded to act out Minnie's fall from the desk which had Ramiron flicking his tale in amusement.

* * *

"Okay, I've done all my homework, so why are we doing more studying?" Harry muttered as he kicked a stone into the lake.

Tom glanced over to Hermione as she made her way across the grass towards them.

The air was cold and crisp and the autumn afternoons were starting to get darker.

"Just because Scrimgeour doesn't like me practising magic doesn't mean I can't learn," Tom said.

Harry rolled his eyes and slumped onto the grass.

"Well you better be careful."

"Hmm?" Tom said.

"Associating with muggleborns," Harry said. "You'll destroy your reputation."

Tom only glanced at him with a smile as Hermione and Ramiron approached.

"I got that book out the library," Hermione presented proudly, "The one from the restricted section."

Tom leaned forward to take it from her eagerly.

"Who signed it out for you?" he questioned as he flicked through the pages.

Hermione blushed and averted her eyes and mumbled something quietly. Ramiron rolled his eyes at this before he burrowed his face into her school bag.

"Although, you better be careful if you actually want to try some of those spells," Hermione added. "I thought the ministry were keeping an eye on Harry's wand, and this book is in the restricted section for a reason."

"Don't worry about that," Tom said as he turned another page. "I've got it covered."

Hermione gave Tom a stern look before she noticed Ramiron's tail swinging out her bag.

"Oh, Harry, I almost forgot, I know you don't read the paper but I thought you ought to see this," Hermione ducked down, pulling her otter out as she produced a rolled up Daily Prophet.

The photograph was yet again the old one of Harry and Tom taken from first year and it had the large title _Ministry of Magic Inquiry Still Ongoing_ , written above it.  
Tom distracted from his book rested his chin on Harry's shoulder as he peered at the article.

"How long do these things take?" Harry asked. It was strange to think it had been nearly a year ago when the Ministry had tried to separate them.

"Months, years," Tom replied. "It's a full on investigation, although I don't particularly like that statement."

Tom pointed at a line in the paper.

"In the coming months, the full implications of Mr Potter's current well being will be investigated," Harry read. "Which means what?"

Hermione pulled Ramiron tighter in her arms.

"It means they'll properly have your health analysed by some healers to see if the Ministry has caused you any lasting damage," she said.

Harry frowned.

"So what do they want to know, the fact that I can't sleep?"

Hermione pursed her lips as Tom pulled the paper from Harry's hands to read it thoroughly.

"You're not still having nightmares are you?" Hermione said. "I thought they'd stopped after Quirrell had left?"

Harry shrugged.

"They're not that bad anymore, honest," he muttered.

Harry ignored Tom's sharp eyes which snapped to him.

* * *

It was dark.

Harry twisted around, eyes empty from any surrounding stimulus. He tried to take a step forwards but his legs were stiff and uncooperative and his arms were restricted, bound tight behind his back by some unknown force.

"Tom-"

It happened in an instant.

The shroud of darkness dissipated and Harry found himself drenched in stone cold fear.

Tom was standing just a few paces away and he wasn't alone.

Lyra was hanging limp in his grip. Only Tom was holding her so delicately as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Lyra's body was broken, faded and drained of all life. Her fur was no longer soft. Instead it was matted and covered in ash as she withered in Tom's arms.

Tom was also deadly pale, lifeless and dull, and completely unresponsive as Harry called out his name again.

Instead, something else entirely was focused on Harry. Something suffocatingly dark and with sharp red eyes. The shadow shifted and Harry flinched back, eyes darting around in desperation as his own body remained immobile. It was alive and so full of such hateful determination.

And then Harry's vision was fading again, hiding Tom and Lyra from view as Harry's mind scrabbled, scratched to stay connected. To feel his soul.

The shadow retaliated as it lashed out towards the pair but Tom had no wand to defend himself. He could only cradle Lyra and take small steps backwards as Tom moved further and further away from Harry.

"No!" Harry cried, pulling against his restraints. "Don't go, come back."

But Tom didn't hear him.

He was fading into the distance, into the darkness, taking Lyra with him as his footsteps grew quieter with every step.

Harry jolted up, sputtering and gasping.

"Harry-"

Tom was by his side, hand pressed firm against his burning scar, the other planted on his chest as Harry took deep breaths.

"D-don't go," Harry choked and he scrambled around in an attempt to grab hold of Tom.

But Harry was disoriented, his thoughts incoherent as all he knew was Lyra drained and dying. That Tom was leaving Harry alone to face the darkness.

Harry twisted in his bed covers as he pushed himself back against the headboard. He pulled his knees up against his chest as his hands gripped his hair tightly.

Tom shifted to crouch in front of Harry, hand moving back to press against Harry's scar.

His other hand he waved in front of Harry's vacant eyes.

"Harry, I'm here. Talk to me."

The shadow, cold in the darkness only watched.

Harry swallowed as he slowly locked his eyes with Tom's.

"Don't leave me with him-" Harry whispered.

"There was someone else in your dream?" Tom's voice was sharp, expression bristled with concern and he moved his other hand to lace into Harry's own, pulling it gently away from Harry's head. "Voldemort?"

Harry shook his head, sickness rising in his throat.

"Riddle?"

Harry jerked back, eyes shutting as he nodded once.

Tom's grip had gone rigid and his eyes simmered in fury.

But Harry could only gasp and splutter as he clung onto Tom like a lifeline.

"T-Tom, I need air," Harry gasped.

And Tom responded at once. His anger dispersed as he shifted his arm so it slotted under Harry's shoulder.

"Come on," Tom said. But Harry's legs wouldn't cooperate. He was drained just like Lyra had been.

Tom tightened his hold and locked his arm securely so that Harry was steady as Tom pulled Harry down the steps to the common room below.

The fire had long since burnt down to its coals and the common room was glowing in a warm orange light.

It should have been long since empty.

But someone was already there. Standing in the shadows.

Harry jerked away, his overwhelming desire to flee taking hold.

Tom drew their wand and flicked it sharply as light illuminated the room of red and gold.

Ginny Weasley was standing alone in the middle of the room. She had a single black book clutched tightly in her arms.

If anything Tom's nails dug in, his pace quickening as he pulled Harry past Ginny without saying a single word. Likewise, Ginny just stood in silence with her eyes distant, almost like she hadn't even noticed they were there.

"What was that about?" Harry mumbled as his head spun.

"Don't think on it, Harry," Tom said. His voice was oddly firm and he never broke pace as they exited the common room.

The castle was eerily quiet and Tom made little effort to quieten their footsteps. Most of the portraits were sleeping but occasionally one would peer down angrily at them as they made their way through the dark corridors.

It was only when they exited down the large front steps did Harry find any strength again. The stars blanketed the nights sky and the moon was hidden just behind the castle, casting long shadows across the lawn.

Harry drew breath and felt a rush of bitterly cold air flood into his lungs.

Tom led him down to the edge of the lake before he settled down next to Harry. He didn't say a word.

Harry drew his knees up and pressed his palms into his forehead, relishing in the night air. Harry almost wished Tom would lean across and take all his worries away. To make Harry forget that there was anything other than Tom in the world.

So, Harry was almost begging as he whispered.

"I can't do this anymore, Tom."

Tom was so still beside him as he watched the water ripple in front of them.

"Your nightmares stopped after we left the Malfoy's," Tom said quietly.

"Not for long," Harry said.

"No, they started again when term began," Tom said.

Harry titled his head up away from his knees, eyes blinking open. This was certainly true. They'd had one whole month to themselves at Hogwarts, one month where Harry didn't have to watch Lyra and Tom become distorted in his dreams.

Tom rubbed his eyes and through Harry's own distress and apprehension, he could feel Tom's distraught confusion.

"Your nightmares only occur under certain circumstances," Tom said. "They always relate to Voldemort's presence. It was the same after the guillotine and they stopped after Quirrell left Hogwarts."

Fear shot through Harry and he spun around in the starlight. Hogwarts sat, towering behind them, casting long shadows across the lawn. But only the empty expanse of grass was there and there was no apparent unfriendly red eyes watching them.

Harry swallowed and his voice was less than confident.

"Voldemort's not in the castle?"

"No," Tom said and he took Harry's hand and squeezed it tightly. Harry relaxed instantly at this as Tom's reassurance ran through him. "Voldemort isn't, but he wasn't always in Malfoy manor."

It took Harry a moment to grasp the full realisation of Tom's statement. Harry felt the dread consume him, a dry chill fueling his understanding as his mind flashed back to the shadowy figure lingering just out of sight.

"You think Riddle's here?" Harry choked.

"I don't think, I know," Tom said darkly. "I think it was his presence which was causing you discomfort at Malfoy Manor and I think it's the same again now."

Harry stiffened. Why was Riddle at Hogwarts and how did he get away from Malfoy manor when Voldemort had been adamant he had to stay put.

"Voldemort wants your blood to rebuild his body, remember?" Tom said softly, answering Harry's unspoken question. "Riddle knew this, that's why he helped you escape. It was his way out of the manor. He convinced Voldemort to let him go so he can bring you back."

Everything was fitting horribly into place now.

"Only Riddle has his own intentions?" Harry said.

Tom nodded and now it was Harry shuffling closer to Tom.

"How did Riddle get into the castle?" Harry asked.

Tom shook his head and looked down. He drummed his fingers against Harry's palm in a cool soothing rhythm.

"I don't know. Riddle said he wasn't bound to anything living, so it could be anything, as long as it anchors his soul."

"But that's-" Harry's voice died on his throat. So lonely.

"Don't you dare feel sorry for him," Tom hissed.

Harry locked his jaw set but he didn't say another word.

Tom pulled out a tuft of grass and ran the small green blades between his fingers. Harry looked up and caught Tom's gaze properly for the first time since they'd left the castle.

Unlike his nightmares, Tom's eyes weren't cold and cruel. They were full of terror.

* * *

The dormitory was empty by the time Harry and Tom left the next morning. Harry hadn't managed to recover any sleep, the very thought that Riddle was hiding just out of sight was enough to keep him lying awake.

Harry and Tom made their way down to the Great Hall only to find it full of an angry buzzing noise.

Harry caught a number of people with tears stained down their faces and their dæmons clutched tightly in their arms.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he came to sit down next to Hermione. His eyes fixed on a couple of auror's standing up by the teacher's table.

Even Ramiron looked disturbed as he brushed against Hermione's arm. Ron who was sitting next to her lent down to shift a pining Sephronia into his lap.

"One of the Slytherin's died last night," Hermione said.

"What? Who?" Harry asked.

"Apparently it was a fifth year, Zoe Westwark," Hermione said. "Her dæmon was a rooster."

Harry looked to Tom but there was no recognition of the name.

"What happened?" Tom said.

"It was a potions accident apparently," Ramiron squeaked.

"I bet it was Snape," Sephronia added. "He probably poisoned them because she didn't hand their homework in on time."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped. "You can't say that, it was an accident."

Ron shrugged, patting Sephronia on the head as he nodded towards Tom.

"We don't know that yet, and it's either going to be Snape or Tom. I don't know anyone else evil enough, do you?" Ron said.

Hermione spluttered but Ron had a horrible point. Scrimgeour would be the first person to accuse Tom. Harry glanced back to the auror's, almost expecting to see the bushy tail of Nala heading their way.

Tom however, hadn't been paying attention. Instead his focus was on someone else entirely.

"Are you okay?" Tom asked.

"Of course I am-" Harry started, and then he realised Tom wasn't talking to him.

Ginny Weasley was sitting a couple of spaces down the table and she was completely ashen faced. Her dæmon, Galian, also looked very distressed and he nudged her gently. This seemed to bring some life back to her as Ginny's hazel eyes widened and a smile split onto her face.

"Oh, hello Tom."

Tom's expression soured in return and he only watched Ginny with cold resentment.

Ginny however didn't seem to notice as her fingers traced through Galian's mane. She practically beamed at Tom as her whole demeanour lightened.

She shifted forwards and opened her mouth to say something when they were interrupted by someone towering over their shoulders.

"Mr Potter, Miss Weasley, if you could both come with me," Professor McGonagall said.

Harry's stomach plummeted as Ron and Hermione shared concerned glances. Galian seemed particularly disturbed as he ducked his face to nudge into Ginny again.

Ginny paused, face draining of all colour as Tom lent back and crossed his arms, eyes flicking briefly to the couple of auror's who were still standing up by the teachers table.

"Sorry Professor?"

Einaris snarled at this, back raising as he hissed at Tom. Harry looked between the two already dreading what was to come.

"Now, Potter. Or I will deduct fifty points from Gryffindor," McGonagall said.

Harry grabbed Tom's hand and shot him a look to be quiet as Ron mouthed indignantly, 'fifty points'.

Ginny bit her lip as she chanced another glance at Tom.

Professor McGonagall lead them to a back room just off from the Great Hall where they were greeted by Professor Snape, Professor Sprout, a Hufflepuff and two Slytherin's. Surprisingly, the auror's weren't present.

The students were all older and their dæmons, a duck, a turkey and a small monkey were making themselves as small as possible. Einaris, Laraine and Professor Sprouts dæmon, a large bumblebee were all watching them carefully.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and gave them all a stern look.

"You were all out of bed last night."

No one said anything.

"I want to know your exact whereabouts," Professor McGonagall continued. "And there will be severe consequences to anyone who lies."

Still everyone remained tight lipped.

Professor Snape turned on one of his students.

"Ogden, explain now," Snape snapped. Laraine screeched once and batted her wings which caused Ogden's turkey to bristle her feathers and take a step behind Ogden's leg.

"I was in the Library with Davis', sir," Ogden said as he nodded across to his classmate. "We forgot we had homework due in the morning for Professor Flitwick."

"And you dormitory wasn't sufficient enough?" Snape said.

"We didn't have the correct references available, sir. I can assure you it will not happen again," Ogden said.

Davis muttered something similar, but his monkey was fidgeting something terrible.

Snape nodded.

"Detention, tonight. My office, 6 o'clock sharp."

Both Slytherin's nodded as their dæmons skirted around their ankles.

"And Miss Noble," Professor Sprout asked her Hufflepuff student. "Why were you outside of your dormitory?"

Her Hufflepuff blushed and Harry was sure she muttered something about the Ravenclaw common room. Her duck had buried its head under his wing.

Professor Sprout looked flustered herself as her bee flew around her head.

"Any relationship you have with Mr Jackson should be outside of curfew and you should certainly not visiting his dormitory."

"Sorry Professor," she muttered as she blushed furiously hard.

"I expect to see you tonight for detention, you can help me collect some more pus from the Bubotuber."

Miss Noble looked less than pleased as her duck quacked.

McGonagall's mouth had tightened as she focused on her own students. Harry shuffled and Tom gripped his hand.

"Miss Weasley?"

"I forgot the password," Ginny started as she entwined her hand into Galian's mane. "I went to try and find a teacher but I got lost."

"And where exactly was this, Miss Weasley?" McGonagall asked.

Ginny looked visibly panicked now as she looked to the other students for help.

"I-I think it was the first floor, no maybe the third."

"That's a long way away from your common room," Snape said, as Galian neighed.

"Well I-I was lost."

Harry couldn't help but feel a ping of sympathy towards Ginny, Snape was bad at the best of times.

Fortunately for Ginny, her interrogation was interrupted.

"I thought it was an accident?" Tom said quietly.

Everyone turned to stare at him at this.

"Wait, this is to do with that Slytherin, you think one of us did her in?" the Hufflepuff said and her duck quacked loudly.

It happened simultaneously, every set of eyes fixed on Tom.

"No, Miss Noble. We are merely trying to establish if any of you saw anything," McGonagall said calmly as Einaris prowled around the smaller dæmons, while avoiding Galian's large hooves.

"But there was evidence of fowl play?" Tom pressed.

"We'll be the ones asking the questions," Snape snapped. "Speaking of which, where were you Potter?"

"Outside," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I couldn't sleep."

Snape sneered at this.

"And what do you think gives you the right to wonder freely around the castle, just because you can't get your precious-"

But Harry had stopped listening. He could see Tom holding Lyra who was lying unmoving, with the shadow lingering just out of reach.

Tom reached out but Harry flinched away.

Everybody noticed.

"Mr Potter," McGonagall said sharply. "Is there something you wish to share?"

Harry opened his mouth but he couldn't find his voice.

"Mr Potter?"

"Harry's fine," Tom lied. "We just needed some fresh air. It gets a bit claustrophobic inside the castle after all."

But they weren't convincing anyone. Now the other students had drawn their dæmons away from Tom, suspicious glances shooting in their direction.

McGonagall looked less than impressed and Laraine fluttered across to Einaris to whisper something in his ear.

McGonagall's face had suddenly drained of all colour as she cleared her throat.

"Miss Weasley, you will be polishing the silver in the trophy room tonight with Mr Filch, and Potter, you will be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail," said McGonagall.

"Is that all professor?" Tom's voice was so sharp as the teachers and students didn't take their eyes off them.

Snape looked particularly unimpressed.

"Morning classes have been cancelled, and you will each lose thirty house points," Snape said.

No one protested.

Tom pulled Harry out at once, ignoring the burning gazes on their backs.

* * *

The rest of the day was torture. Despite no classes being on in the morning, everywhere Harry and Tom went people were whispering furiously behind their backs, clutching their own dæmons in their arms as they hurried away. Even the Gryffindor common room had been suffocating and Harry had found it almost a relief to be heading off to his detention with Lockhart that evening.

Fortunately, they didn't see the auror's again, although Harry was still expecting Scrimgeour to haul them out of Hogwarts for questioning.

For now though, Harry and Tom were left to sit in front of a large pile of letters as Lockhart handed them yet another envelope.

"I am Lord Voldemort. I don't answer fan mail," Tom hissed.

Harry snorted which caused ink to splash all over Gladys Gudgeon's address.

"Now now, boys," Lockhart chided. Lockhart seemed not to have caught what Tom had said as he smiled with his dizzying white teeth and continued with his latest story about village he'd saved from a werewolf.

Harry was convinced he'd received the worst detention by far, even spending time down in the dungeons with Snape seemed more appealing than this right now.

Lockhart's guinea pig was currently parading up and down a small line of freshly written letters. She'd pressed her feet into a small dish of ink that Lockhart had set down as she marked small imprints of ink on each letter.

"My readers absolutely adore Minnie," Lockhart explained as his dæmon squeaked. "Veronica Smethley always insists that she gets Minnie's signature. She has a small rabbit called Basil who is very fond of her."

Tom was scribbling away and Harry peered over Lockhart's letter to Victoria Smethley to see Tom adding something about busting boils.

Unfortunately, the novel of writing a few offensive comments when Lockhart wasn't looking quickly lost any entertainment and Harry and Tom found themselves drifting into a stupor as Lockhart rambled on.

So when a spike of confusion shot through Harry a few hours later, Harry nearly knocked the ink bottle off the desk.

Tom had stiffened. His quill was frozen over his parchment as his eyes darted to Lockhart. Tom was still a moment before he scanned the room with a silent frown.

Distracted Tom titled his head to the side.

"Tom-" Harry started.

"Shh," Tom whispered with a sharp gesture of his hand.

"What's that boys?" Lockhart said. Minnie stopped with her paws in the ink.

"Nothing, Professor," Harry said as chanced an odd look at Tom.

Tom didn't respond and now it was Harry on the receiving end of a puzzled frown.

"Well would you look at that. We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it – the time's flown hasn't it?" Lockhart said as Minnie jumped onto one last letter.

Harry didn't answer.

It was late when they finally stepped out of Lockhart's office and Harry and Tom found themselves walking through a silent and dark castle.

"What was that about?" Harry asked as they passed a portrait of a knight sleeping in his frame.

Tom took a moment to answer.

"You didn't hear it then?"

Harry shook his head.

Tom sighed as they took the route back to the main staircases via the first floor stairs.

"Someone was calling my name."

Harry frowned.

"Voldemort?"

Tom jerked his head at this.

"No, they were saying my name. Tom Riddle. I could hear it so clearly, I thought it was Lockhart at first, it was that close," Tom said.

If that didn't sound ominous enough.

"Why would someone be calling your name?" Harry asked.

Tom however, never got a chance to answer.

They rounded a corner and ran straight into a flustered looking Ginny Weasley. Right next to her was Galian and he had his head bowed as if ready to charge.

Ginny let out a loud squeak and her hands immediately flew to rub at her tear stained face.

Harry couldn't help it. It slipped out of his mouth so easily.

"H-have you been fighting?"

If anything more tears prickled at Ginny's eyes and she shook her head furiously.

"W-we haven't! I-it was just Filch," she wiped her eyes hurriedly on her sleeve, "You know how his detentions can be-"

"Oh," Harry suddenly felt very stupid. Of course no one else fought with their dæmons. "Well it can't have been worse than Lockhart, I think I nearly lost the will to-"  
But Harry trailed off, Ginny was very clearly not paying attention as her focus drifted solely across to Tom.

Ginny's tear stained face split into a weak smile as she hurriedly dried her eyes.

Harry wasn't the only one to notice as Tom's expression cooled. Galian however, was less than impressed as he ducked his head suddenly, hoofs pouring the carpet as he neighed.

There was barely any warning.

Galian charged straight at Tom. Alarmed Harry and Ginny both reacted at once.

Harry lunged forwards to grab Tom. Harry yanked Tom's collar to pull him backwards as Ginny threw her hands into Galian's mane.

"Galian!" Ginny cried. "Don't-"

But he was too strong and Ginny could do nothing as her horse charged towards straight them.

Harry fumbled for his wand but Galian was on them in seconds. His head lowered as he butted into Harry.

Harry's lungs emptied and his chest made a distinctive cracking sound. He was knocked clean off his feet as Galian tumbled forwards, no momentum lost as Harry's head slammed back into Tom's as they landed in a jumbled heap.

Harry's chest burnt and every breath was sharp, tight and stinging as he winced. He blinked, head ringing as Tom staggered out from under him.

Tom's hands were shaking as he dipped into Harry's pocket.

"Stay still," Tom whispered and he leveled Harry's wand straight at his bruised chest.

Tom mumbled something but Harry's vision was shifting in and out of focus, the pain excruciatingly unrelenting.

There was another loud crunch and Harry cried out causing Tom to wave his wand again.

"Shh, I've got you."

Sure enough, the pain was numbing and each breath no longer burned. Instead an odd tingling feeling was spreading out from the wand tip as Harry's vision blinked back into focus. But despite Harry's cracked ribs he by far hadn't faired worse.

Ginny had collapsed on the floor and she was sobbing uncontrollably. Galian was paralysed beside Harry and Tom.

"Ginny, I'm so sorry," Harry stuttered as he attempted to pull himself up.

Tom gripped Harry's shoulder to hold him firmly as he glared towards Ginny with such cold resentment.

Ginny stumbled onto her knees, tears streaming down her face as she fumbled with her school bag. Harry could understand her discomfort, he and Galian had touched. It was forbidden, nothing was worse, not even broken bones.

Galian however, was back by her side in a moment, hoof stomping down fiercely on her bag which just narrowly missed her fingers.

"Galian, no!"

She attempted to push Galian away as she scrambled with her bag once more. But Galian was wild and he ducked his head, like he was going to try and charge at Tom again.

Tom stood and held their wand drawn. His expression was deadly. Harry scrambled up and clutched onto the wall as his head swayed. Tom paused, only to grab a hold of Harry's arm to steady him but he didn't lower their wand. Instead he looked down at Ginny with a horrible pitying look.

"You've been neglecting your dæmon," Tom said coldly.

"Tom-" Harry started.

Ginny who was still panicked with her school bag stilled as if Tom was the only thing that mattered.

"I have not-" Ginny started.

"Liar," Tom said coldly.

Ginny looked genuinely hurt. Galian had paused as he watched Tom cautiously, unsure by this interaction.

Tom's mouth twisted into a cold smirk.

"Whatever you think I am, you're deluded," Tom said. "I've seen you watching me, I can and will only offer you nothing. You are worthless to me-"

"Tom, stop it," Harry said. Ginny's eyes were welling up again as she stumbled to her feet and clutched her bag tightly to her chest. It was amazing a teacher hadn't appeared from all the commotion they were causing.

Ginny opened her mouth as if to say something but decided better as she closed it. She grabbed her school bag and pulled it close to her chest before she tore away in the direction of the first floor stairs.

Tom made to follow.

"Wasn't that enough?" Harry snapped and he grabbed Tom's arms to haul him back. Only this caused Harry's head to spin.

Tom bristled as he immediate turned to steady Harry.

"She needed to hear it," Tom said as his fingers began tracing gently over Harry's bruises.

"Why? That was just brutal."

Tom flicked their wand again but Harry felt little relief as his legs wobbled.

"Ginny isn't focused on Galian and you think I'm being cruel to tell her to stop?" Tom said.

Harry hadn't seen it like this but that didn't really win Tom any favours.

"I guess you're familiar with that, aren't you?" Harry spat. He would have pushed Tom away again but from Harry's tight gasps and dizzying vision, all he could do was cling to Tom.

Tom's face twisted from anger to hurt. But he didn't deny it.

"Yes, alright. Something has come between Ginny and her dæmon," Tom relented.

"And that something is you?" Harry said. The way Galian had been acting sure implied as much.

Tom didn't respond at first, instead he moved to shift his arm under Harry to support his weight.

"That something is Voldemort."

Harry froze, understanding so crystal clear.

"Riddle?"

The corridor was dimmer now so Harry could only just notice Tom's darkening expression. There were shadows under his eyes as he nodded sharply.

"There is a presence around her and it's only growing stronger as Galian grows weaker."

"But Galian seems strong enough?" Harry said as he rubbed his burning chest.

Tom nodded and what he said next chilled Harry to the bone.

"Galian wasn't with her last night. Ginny was alone."

Horror trickled into Harry but his own memory was confusing. He'd remembered Tom dragging him out of bed and walking past Ginny in the common room, but how could he have missed the absence of Galian.

"You don't watch dæmons as much as I do," Tom said softly. "It's not really what humans do."

"But Galian had to be there?" Harry said. It was impossible.

It was wrong in every sense.

Harry craved Lyra more than anything but to think if Ginny had possibly been momentarily on her own.

"I don't think she's suffering," Tom said lightly at Harry's apparent discomfort.

"But you think this presence around her is Riddle?" Harry said.

"Well it certainly feels like him," Tom said quietly. "Haven't you noticed?"

Harry shook his head.

"But how did Ginny and Galian get tied up with him? Why would Riddle not come straight to us? I already said I'd help him," Harry said.

"I don't know," Tom said after a pause.

"So what do we do, do we speak to Riddle?"

Tom shook his head firmly at this.

"Not yet, the longer we can avoid him the better, come on," he started to move Harry gently in the direction of the stairs.

Harry gritted his teeth as he bit his lip hard.

"But we can't leave Ginny with him, not if Riddle is hurting Galian?"

"There is nothing we can do for her yet," Tom said. "First off, let's get you to the hospital wing and then tomorrow I want to have a proper look through that book from the restricted section again-"

Tom's voice trailed off, silencing in a moment.

"Tom?"

"Shh," Tom said. "I can hear it."

"The voice?" Harry said and his eyes flicked across warily to Tom. "It's not Riddle is it?"

"No," Tom shook his head firmly at this. "That much I'm certain. His presence is overwhelmingly obvious to distinguish, this is different."

But Tom remained tense as his hand tightened around Harry.

"I-I don't think it's far, it sounds like it's just beneath us."

Harry could tell Tom was itching to investigate and his eyes scanned over Harry one more time.

"I'm fine, really-" Harry started as his vision spun. "You've numbed most of the pain, the hospital wing can wait five minutes."

Tom gave him a funny look before he finally relented, mostly because he knew Harry was curious as well.

"Come on, I think it's this way," Tom said.

Tom lead them downstairs, only nodding sharply when Harry asked if he could still hear the voice.

It didn't take long to reach their destination despite Harry's dizzying head.

It was a bathroom.

"Why are there mirrors on the wall?" Harry asked.

And it wasn't just the usual mirrors that surrounded the sinks. Dozens more littered the room, tall elaborate and engraved with shimmering runes. They reminded Harry almost of the grandeur of the mirror of erised but these had no Lyra hiding beneath their surface.

The room was littered in their reflections and Harry could see his pale faces looking back at him.

Tom's hand moved out of Harry's as he stepped closer to press his hand up against the glass. Harry leant against one of the sinks and massaged his own chest.

"I heard it," Tom said. "It was here, the voice was right here, it was calling my name."

And then something slipped over Harry's eyes.

Darkness.

Harry grabbed at his face, but there was no cloth, only the lack of light.

"Tom-" Harry gasped.

He reached out automatically and grasped blindly at the emptiness.

"Harry?"

Relief poured into Harry at the comfort of Tom's voice alone. And although his terror was growing, the speed of which it was growing diminished.

"I-I can't see, I can't-"

Maybe it had been Galian, maybe when Harry had knocked his head something had gone horribly wrong. Harry fumbled forwards desperate to grab hold of Tom.

"What happened?" Tom started but his voice fell horribly quiet and his approaching footsteps halted.

Something was moving. Something heavy and large.

"Harry, don't move-"

And then Tom's voice stopped in a moment, swallowed into the darkness. It felt like ice was clawing at Harry's heart. But this was different from the tingling sensation of the curse Tom had used earlier.

This was wrong. This was so very very wrong.

Harry scrabbled forwards but the shock was intense. Rippling through Harry as it tore him apart.

"Tom-"

And in less than a heart beat, without any warning, their connection shattered.

Harry collapsed, lungs emptying as he screamed. But barely any sound came out. His lungs were still bruised, tight and suffocating as his soul writhed in anguish, desperate to find something to hold onto.

There was hissing, eerie and disturbing, but Harry barely noticed. Locked in his own self turmoil as everything broke apart.

"No, no, no, no!" Harry cried. He stumbled blind as his hands traced over the bathroom's titled floor.

Harry knew this feeling. He could never forget. The consuming lingering emptiness, only growing with every gasp of air, in every ounce of ruthless understanding.

Only Tom could fill it, but Tom wasn't there. Harry couldn't breathe. Every fiber of his being was crying out, but the void only growing.

And it wasn't stopping.

"What a pity."

That voice.

Harry's soul latched hold as it grabbed onto that one small ounce of familiarity. It was almost soothing if it weren't for Harry's soul shattering emptiness.

Harry twisted round. His pupils darted back and forth, with every movement numb, slow, muted.

"Take it off," Harry said as he scrabbled at his face.

The voice tutted before a sharp pain ricocheted up Harry's arm.

Harry hissed, but it was nothing compared to the lack of Tom. The absence which would ground his own soul. Harry was barely hanging onto reality as the weak connection faltered.

"Take it off," Harry repeated.

There were footsteps, loud and deliberate. Harry drew backwards on the floor. He clutched his arm while each breath remained without oxygen.

The blackness shifted as quickly as it had appeared and Harry blinked rapidly at the sudden influx of light. He raised his hands to shield his gaze as he focused on the figure which stood before him.

Harry's heart twisted. His soul leaping out in an attempt to reconnect to what he had lost.

"T-Tom?"

But it wasn't. It took Harry a moment to adjust and realise that he was still alone. With barely an anchor to stable his aching heart. Instead there was this presence, wrong in every sense. Like Tom, but not. It was like an angry buzzing was flooding into Harry's senses, suffocating but empty and without substance.

"You."

Riddle smiled and it wasn't a particularly nice smile. It was mocking, condescending and his eyes gleamed with a sense of horrible satisfaction.

Riddle was holding a wand, but it was hanging limply at his side. He knew Harry was no threat. Tom wasn't there to defend him.

"Hello," Riddle said softly. His hand reached out to linger just above Harry's forehead.

Harry's soul twisted, desperate to lean in, to sink into Riddle. But at the same time it was repulsed, twisted and falling. He wanted out. He only wanted Tom.

Harry swayed closer and Riddle only smiled in response.

And then Harry noticed someone slightly behind Riddle.

Ginny Weasley was standing there, a black book clasped tightly to her chest as she watched with vacant eyes. Galian was no where in sight.

This distraction was weak however and Harry's soul still burnt as the emptiness continued in relentless pain.

Harry was broken. Soulless.

"Where is Tom?" Harry gasped.

Riddle smiled, teeth sharp as he looked over Harry's shoulder.

Harry was too afraid, but his desperation was overwhelming, unrelenting. Was Tom gone like Lyra. Or was he really just standing right behind him, suffering the same nothingness as Harry.

He was neither and Harry's soul ached, splintering at the cruel realisation of Tom's fate.

Harry's voice broke, tears welling in his eyes.

"T-Tom-"

Tom was stone. Cold and unmoving.

There was no heart beat, no rush of affection or any other piece of emotion.

Nothing.

"Tom-"

It was like Tom wasn't there at all. He was a perfect statue with wide open eyes. His mouth was parted slightly and he had one arm solid, half reaching out in Harry's direction as their wand trapped tightly in his hand.

Tom was an imprint of everything Harry wanted but lacking in any kind of substance. It wasn't like the familiar ache of loss from Lyra, this was different.

Their bond was severed, just like the guillotine had always intended.

Harry's eyes burnt as tears crept down his face. The shock was still fresh, ricocheting through his every being. Harry attempted to crawl forwards, to reach out, as if being closer to Tom would somehow help.

Harry didn't get very far.

Riddle tapped the wand sharply on Harry's shoulder. A curse ripped down Harry's arm in a stinging pain. Harry hissed as he fell onto his hands and knees. His soul still thirsted for more, unsatisfied with whatever link he had with Riddle.

"Ginny, help-"

But Ginny didn't move, she remained standing silently, eyes unfocused as she clutched the black book tight in her arms.

Riddle leveled his wand straight at Harry's head.

And Harry wished for death.

"Obliviate."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

_Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone._

Harry pulled at his hair, rocking back and forth as he gulped down sharp breaths of air. His ears were strained but all Harry could hear was his own thumping heart as each pulse ricocheted through his broken soul.

Harry slammed his eyes shut, nails digging into his scalp as he tried to block out his clinical prison. But the lingering emptiness remained, as it always did, and Harry was left aching for anything to end the soul destroying monotony. Harry's prison was also void of any stimulus. Light just seemed to radiate in, cold and bright in the absence of any windows and doors and a single bed rested against the wall.

Otherwise, Harry was the one imperfection in an perfectly blank room. It was Harry's skin which was scratched raw, wrapped beneath layers of bandages and Harry's throat which was burnt dry from screaming at the same four white walls.

_Gone, gone, gone, gone, gone._

And still that single thought persisted, cutting deeper than his very existence. It lashed out fiercely, enveloping Harry in darkness as it searched for any soul. Anything to stabilise Harry's growing hunger.

And it wouldn't go away.

* * *

Harry was sitting on his bed when the buzzing started.

"Not now," Harry hissed as he pressed his bandaged hands up against his ears as he drew his knees up tight to his chest. Not that it would stop, it would only do that when Harry complied. And he would. Three times a day, every day. Harry wished he could resist but he was just so hungry.

Harry slipped off his bed and placed his back against the far white wall. The buzzing stopped and Harry watched as a door melted into existence on the opposite side of the room. But this time it wasn't the usual healers dressed in their lime green uniforms, nor the auror's with their dæmons lit in such mesmerising light.

It was Dumbledore.

Not that Harry cared, his main focus locked straight onto the wispy form of Fawkes. Harry's first instinct was to take a step forwards. He knew that the dæmon could not remain protected forever. Harry was left taking deep sharp breaths as his emotions shattered in and out of reality.

"Where is _he_?" Harry's voice was supposed to be firm but it wavered as he choked. The healers wouldn't answer, the auror's wouldn't answer.

Harry would make Dumbledore answer. But Dumbledore's voice remained disgustingly calm.

"I don't know."

"Don't lie!"

Darkness pulsed around Harry, exploding out in a angry burst of energy. It sunk the room into cold despair causing Fawkes to falter as he flashed to transparent gold. And in less than a heart beat, Harry's hunger latched hold, soul craving.

Dumbledore responded quickly as Fawkes flicked back into his white glowing form. He shone so brightly that Harry flinched away.

"Tell me," Harry hissed, and he raised his hand to shield his view from the bird, as if this would somehow numb his pain. "Where is he?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"I am sorry, Harry. When you were discovered, you were alone."

Alone.

The word echoed inside his head. Just like it had done for days.

No Lyra, no Tom.

Alone. Completely alone. There was no anchor. Just emptiness. And still Harry's never-ending hunger.

Harry shifted backwards until he sunk down into the corner. His body trembled as his fingers slipped back through his hair. Harry's mind scrambled, desperate for any connection.

But as always there was nothing. Nothing, except the fierce realisation and anger so overwhelming that what remained of Harry nearly splintered then and there.

"You've taken him," Harry snapped.

There was another flash as volatile darkness completed Harry. It was so welcoming and so powerful that even Dumbledore's pathetic attempt at shielding his dæmon would not succeed.

In retaliation, Fawkes sung, his note loud and intrusive causing Harry to recoil as his darkness imploded inwards, leaving him in the same sense of suspension, the same void that he was to remain trapped in.

"Harry, I have done no such thing," Dumbledore's voice was firm and commanding.

Harry's head titled forwards, chin against his chest as his pupils stared coldly upwards at Dumbledore.

"Then why am I locked up?"

The darkness shifted and pulsed as if it was apart of him.

"Harry, I need you to calm down and listen to me," Dumbledore said. "You are in a serious condition right now and every second is crucial. The sooner you realise this then we can cooperate and find the best way forward-"

"I don't want more potions, I'm sick of potions," Harry snapped.

But Dumbledore only raised his wand once more, causing a haze to wash over Harry. Harry sunk back instantly, body numbing as Fawkes shone all the more brighter. Harry wanted to argue, wanted to scream and shout but everything was so much effort. His very being was exhausted, drained and so empty.

Dumbledore seemed to take Harry's silence for his cooperation as he stepped forwards.

"What do you remember?"

Harry shook his head, tears brimming in his eyes. He'd asked himself the same question for days.

Why couldn't he remember, Tom was gone. He _should_ remember.

"Can you feel his presence?" Dumbledore asked carefully.

Harry shook his head, his gut lurching. Tom wasn't like Lyra, the distressing hum lingering always. Instead there was just an abyss, the place where Tom should be.

Harry nudged further into his corner as his soul cried out and attempted to realign. But there was no stimulus, not in his prison. The healers had already explained that any connection to the outside was limited, no soul aside from Harry's own could penetrate these titled white walls. And no dæmon was allowed to enter, not unless they were protected by the same charm that Dumbledore had Fawkes under.

Dumbledore sighed heavily this time and he pulled off his half moon glasses to wipe them on his robes.

"Harry, I think you know what has happened."

Harry shut his eyes.

Tom couldn't be, Harry wouldn't admit it. Tom was just missing, and Harry had to find him.

"I will do everything I can to help you." Dumbledore said softly. Fawkes' was singing, but whatever comfort Dumbledore thought this would achieve was useless.

"There is nothing you can do," Harry snapped.

"Your dæmon, Harry. Don't tell me you've forgotten her after only one year?"

Harry stared blankly. Dumbledore's words were alien to him.

"You need Lyra now more than ever," Dumbledore said. "I will do my best to find her and bring her home to you."

Harry didn't want Lyra.

"Go away!" he screamed.

Fawkes song turned to one shrill cry, warning Dumbledore only seconds before. There was a black flash and the darkness lashed out. But it found nothing. Trapped in whatever bubble Dumbledore's spell had achieved. It wilted inwards until it remained lurking and waiting.

And then there was the soul shattering realisation. That one fact that that was solid, that Tom was still lost, that he wasn't coming back.

Harry's fingers scratched across his skin as his desperation consumed his entire being.

Fawkes was still swirling around, white and wispy and Harry eye's flicked back up as he watched through preying eyes. Harry wanted to lunge forwards, but that in itself was terrifying enough.

"What is happening to me?" Harry asked desperately, voice cracking.

Dumbledore's silence was deafening in itself and Harry arms wrapped tight around his body as the cold enveloped him.

And finally, finally Dumbledore relented.

"Have you heard of a creature called a Dementor, Harry?" Dumbledore said quietly.

But Harry only jerked his head as his eyes narrowed.

This is what had constantly been denied to him. Time and time again. Tom had talked about a shadow with fear in his eyes, but still he hadn't said a word. How was this any of this fair.

And Harry gained no satisfaction that Dumbledore was about to tell him. What should have been told to him the second he lost Lyra.

"Dementors are soulless creatures," Dumbledore continued "Soulless creatures with only one true desire."

His voice was tight and constrained, yet Harry could feel no pity for the old man, only clear cut resentment.

Even though Harry knew it was coming, he'd had never feared anything more. And it would be so easy. One slip and Fawkes would be caught, ripped apart and with a bleeding soul for Harry to take.

Harry knew what Dumbledore meant, he'd known it from the start, ever since he'd woken up with Tom no longer by his side.

"Dementors devour dæmons, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry's slammed his eyes shut, bandaged hands pressing hard into his ears. He didn't want to acknowledge it, didn't want to believe what he knew in his heart to be true.

"Dementors are evil creatures, dark and full of decay."

Harry clenched his fists, as a a single tear traced down his cheek.

"Stop it," Harry hissed.

Fawkes gave one shrill cry. Harry felt clammy and his throat was raw as he shook his head uncontrollably.

The fear was so overwhelming.

Tom had known, he'd talked about a shadow with nothing but fear in his eyes. And it was only now, with a horrible realisation that Harry understood his silence.

Harry was literally fighting for the remnants of his soul.

"I'm turning into a Dementor?"

His own voice didn't even sound like his own. It sounded distant, disjointed as Harry shifted in his corner.

But Dumbledore shook his head, and he looked older, more wary than Harry remembered.

"Not until you take another's dæmon, only then can a Dementors transformation be trigged and then there would be no saving your soul," Dumbledore said.

Harry's gut wrenched, sickness rising as his breathing sharpened. And yet still, he couldn't help but look to Fawkes, totally unhinged as he desired for more.

"This is what you wanted before," Harry said deliriously as his vision swayed. "If the guillotine had succeeded, if you'd have taken my soul, it would have ended like this-"

"I had confidence that Lyra would have reached you before the end-"

The darkness thundered, and Harry's head shot up.

"You had no reason to," Harry snarled. The room was pulled into such despair, where no hope could ever survive. Not even through Fawkes' will alone.

Dumbledore actually flinched, his face draining and the fears in his eyes showed. His expression was pained, fresh from whatever trauma flashed before his eyes.

It took a moment for Dumbledore to regain his composure, but still the headmaster looked pale and shaken.

"You haven't turned yet," Dumbledore said. "But if you slip away from us, I'm afraid we won't have any options left."

Harry didn't say anything. He knew what Dumbledore meant by this.

"You would kill me," Harry said coolly.

Fawkes gave one shrill cry.

"Death would be a kindness, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Harry had wished for death at the start, but now his need for a dæmon was so deep that nothing else mattered.

"Well I can't take any dæmon in here, can I?" Harry hissed. "No connection can penetrate, that's why Fawkes is with you? If he leaves, you'll be just like me. Severed."

Dumbledore chose to ignore this comment.

"You need to hold your resolve, Harry. As soon as we have located Lyra, I'm sure you can make a full recovery."

Harry glared at this, expression fierce. There was no coming back from this, even if the Ministry managed to find Lyra, he still wouldn't have Tom.

Dumbledore however, seemed to have nothing else to say as he flicked his wand, Fawkes soaring back towards him.

Harry scrambled up, urgency surging.

"You can't leave me here-" but sound barely came out, as Harry's voice died in his throat.

Not again. Completely alone.

The auror's and healers never stayed long either. Their dæmons couldn't survive, even in their protected states. Not when Harry was watching, waiting. His hunger scratching deep, scaring straight into Harry as he tried to find a soul to anchor onto.

But Dumbledore only paused, head bowed low, as Fawkes cooed softly.

"I'm sorry, Harry. St Mungo's is the safest place for you right now."

Harry felt more like a prisoner, an experiment, than a patient.

Harry snarled, darkness lashing out. But this didn't stop Dumbledore from stepping out of the door, as it melted back to a hard smooth surface.

And Harry was left with simmering resentment and a hollow disappointment as he watched Fawkes leave.

He was still hungry.

Harry trembled as he fell to his knees, his head slipped into his hands. But nothing would satisfy his itch, his desire for completeness. He curled up on the cold titled floor, hot tears spilling down his face.

Harry only wanted Tom.

* * *

The room was buzzing again.

Harry lay motionless, staring up at the blank ceiling. His head was still fuzzy, sluggish from the last bout of potions he'd been given. Harry rolled over, vision swimming as his bandaged hands covered his ears.

"Tom, make it stop," Harry whispered.

But the buzzing continued. Loud and intrusive.

"Tom, please-"

The healers had already come and gone, and Harry had no desire to humour anyone else, not now. Yet, Harry couldn't resist, not when the opportunity to take a dæmon was still possible.

Maybe this time, Harry would take what he was owed.

Harry staggered forwards, slipping off his bed in a mess of covers. He hated this routine, but Scrimgeour had been adamant, every since the first incident in which Harry had proven himself capable.

Harry shivered at the memory, which was so worse now he knew. If Moody hadn't stopped him, maybe he'd already have turned into a Dementor already.

Harry pressed his back against the wall, slipping down it slightly as his knees buckled. The buzzing stopped.

Harry watched, lump tight in his throat as the door melted into place. Four dæmons entered, so bright that the darkness withdrew, repelling Harry's very existence.

"Don't move, Potter," Scrimgeour gestured with his wand as Nala swirled just out of reach.

Harry stayed obediently still, eyes narrowing as he glared at the auror. The surrounding dæmons, a bear, a fox, a lynx were also protected, but they were each a potential target.

"Are you going to kill me yet?" Harry asked bitterly.

No one answered, and Harry was sure the dæmons would have twitched away had it not been for the spells they were under. Scrimgeour however only turned away and nodded his head sharply.

And then another auror entered, but this time they had their wand pointed at something else entirely.

A large object, nearly as tall as the room itself was being floated into Harry's room. It was rounded slightly at the top, yet that was the only defining feature as it was draped in a heavy black cloth.

Not that Harry cared, he was more interested in the new dæmon, a small bird which flicked around.

"Sir?" the auror said, waiting for Scrimgeour to give the word. And Scrimgeour did, with another sharp nod of his head as the cloth lifted.

Harry sucked in a single shallowed breath at the sight, eyes drawn at once away from the dæmon to a large familiar ornate mirror.

This wasn't possible.

Harry stood slowly, hands steadying himself against the wall as his heart pounded. He was perfectly aware that four wands locked straight on him, but they didn't protest as Harry took a shaky step forwards.

His desire for a dæmon was strong, and even now Harry thirsted to take one for himself. The auror's must have been aware, that's why they were here. Harry could see anything in the mirror. Anything at all. Everything had changed.

But Harry knew in his heart, there was only one reflection the mirror of erised would show him. And this was the one reflection that would complete him.

Harry was trembling as he came to a halt, only a metre a way as the mirror delivered his deepest desire.

Harry choked, as his heart swelled.

Tom was there. And Lyra, who Harry had not seen clearly since his last encounter with the mirror.

Harry pressed his shaking fingers up against the glass, but Tom remained still, standing not two feet away as his eyes crinkled and his mouth split into a grin. Lyra was perched on his shoulder, peering back at Harry with such wide curious eyes.

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It was like he was back in his nightmare, only this time, Tom and Lyra were trapped behind hard cold glass.

Tom was still smiling, and Harry found his fingers tracing over the surface. Harry's own reflection responded in turn, hand moving into Tom's own to grip it tightly. Harry's throat tightened as the pit in his stomach sunk deeper.

Harry was whole, yet it felt wrong to feel such sadness. He couldn't touch either Tom or Lyra and it was almost a sick jealousy that Harry watched his reflection stand with them both.

All those moments wasted being distant from Tom. All those times where Harry had him completely, yet had pushed him away.

Harry would do anything to have him back.

Tom had done everything to keep them together. And he'd done the right thing. Sacrificed Harry's very being just to hang onto their connection, their lifeline to each other. Tom put Harry in the guillotine, so they would never have the risk of being separated again.

It burned Harry's stomach. He would have Tom place him in the guillotine a thousands times over than actually have their separation happen. The silver blade was nothing in comparison to Harry's torment, to the terror he was living through day after day.

Tom would know what to do. If it had been Harry who was lost, Tom would know how to find him again. And Tom would stop at nothing, would break bones if he had to find Harry again.

Harry couldn't even make it past the auror's.

Lyra yawned, satisfied as her small tail curled around Tom's neck. Harry's reflection responded again, this time moving his free hand to stroke through her fur.

Lyra had known this would happen, at least on some subconscious level. She had left to protect his and Tom's bond. She'd known that without her, the ministry would never have been able to remove Tom, not without sacrificing Harry. She'd tried to protect Tom all this time.

Harry had been confused, hurt when she hadn't returned, but if Lyra still believed she was protecting Tom, how would she know when she could ever come back, if at all. How could Harry blame her.

Tom and Lyra were both waiting to be found and Harry was left staring numbly at their mere shadows, so empty compared to the real things.

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Scrimgeour give a single order as the auror's dropped their wands.

"You are not tempted by my dæmon?" Scrimgeour asked gruffly.

Harry's eyes flicked to Nala. She was no longer floating, and her fur had returned to the familiar transparent ginger fur as she no longer shone bright white. Harry's gaze moved back to the mirror.

He shook his head.

Harry's hunger, his desire to consume another dæmon had vanished entirely, so much so that Harry hadn't even noticed Nala change. But in return, horrible realisation was coursing through Harry, shaking him to the core.

"You should have killed me," Harry whispered, eyes locked on his perfect reflection.

Harry was a monster. To think that he had the capability, the drive to take another dæmon was horrific and nothing would make it okay.

A healer, who Harry hadn't noticed enter, approached hesitantly, a small pig squeaking nervously by their heels.

"Mr Potter, if you could hold out your arm please?" he said.

And for the first time, Harry didn't fight. Instead Harry only felt sick to the stomach. How was this fair, how could he go on like this.

Harry couldn't remain bound to the mirror, craving what was hidden beneath the glass. Not forever. Not when his heart ached for his real soul. For Tom.

Harry needed to get out.

"I want to go back to school," Harry said quietly, just loud enough that everyone could hear him.

The auror's shifted at this, dæmon's retreating despite the lack of darkness. Even Scrimgeour looked alarmed at this statement as Nala curled around his leg.

"There's an inquiry going on," Harry continued, his voice gaining confidence as Tom's head tilted to the side, eyes intense. Harry now understood the true consequences of the ministries actions from when they had first placed him in the guillotine, Harry knew the true outrage he could cause. "I imagine the Minister wants this to remain quiet, and he can't keep me here forever-"

Tom's smile flicked into a smirk as he nodded his head once.

* * *

Behind the other side of the hard white wall, a rather pale Minister for Magic was listening as his bulldog dæmon pined by his side.

"Cornelius-" Dumbledore started. "Harry needs to stay in St Mungo's-"

"The school governors have been asking a lot of awkward questions," Fudge said as he wrung his hands together. "And the prophet, if they knew that Potter is demented-"

Fudge trailed off, as he pulled off his hat and spun it nervously in his grip. Dumbledore however shook his head, blue eyes dim.

"I do not believe Harry is safe at Hogwarts. Whoever did this could not have been a student," Dumbledore said.

"You don't really think-" Fudge spluttered as his dæmon barked.

"Yes, Cornelius," Dumbledore said. "I think Lord Voldemort has taken back his soul."


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

Draco stretched back and rested his arms behind his head as he smirked at Ron.

"What was the score again, 120 to 230?"

Ron wrinkled his nose.

"That's unfair. We didn't have a seeker, plus your beaters were playing dirty."

Draco smirk widened.

"All beaters play dirty, Weasley. Some are just better than others."

Ron's face brightened to match his hair.

"You're just annoyed that Fred nearly had you off your broom-"

Hermione threw down her copy of the Daily Prophet and crumpled it against her knees while Ramiron, who was hiding in her jumper, peaked out cautiously as she glared at the two of them.

"Would you two shut up about Quidditch. It is not important," she snapped.

Draco and Ron both looked like she'd slapped them, but neither Adara or Sephronia seemed to share their outrage, if anything Sephronia sunk back into Ron's lap with the smallest of whimpers.

"Not important!" Ron started, "Hermione, Slytherin can't win the Quidditch cup again-"

"Gryfindor wouldn't have won anyway-"

But they both fell silent at Hermione's piercing glare.

"We can assure those concerned that Mr Potter's safety is our top most priority, and that appropriate safeguards have been put in place regarding his current condition. The Ministry have agreed a strict set of precautions-"

"They're not joking," Draco interrupted again. "My father had to pull all kinds of strings. The school governors really weren't happy when they found out what had happened-"

"Mr Potter's whereabouts are strictly confidential," Hermione cleared her throat loudly, cutting off Draco as she continued to read. "If anyone locates a lost dæmon, then they are urged to contact the ministry immediately."

Hermione set the paper back down as her brow creased.

"It's all a bit serious. I mean, the Ministry are going to an awful lot of trouble and this seems a bit excessive-"

"Have you ever seen a dementor?" Draco asked as he wrapped his arms tightly around an unsettled Adara.

Hermione opened her mouth, before she clamped it tightly shut. She shook her head fiercely, tears welling in her eyes as she looked to the silent occupant in the room. Ramiron shuffled further into her jumper.

Even Adara and Sephronia couldn't help but shift their focus to the one thing they were desperately trying to ignore.

"I've only read about them," Hermione said numbly.

But Draco showed no victory in this as his expression darkened.

"So you have no idea what they are capable of? How they are wrong in every sense of what is possible?" Draco retorted.

Hermione jumped up at this, tears spilling slowly down her face as Ramiron squirmed in her hold.

"But it's not right for the Ministry to keep Harry locked up-"

"Do you see Harry complaining?" Draco said, head jerking to the other side of the tall shimmering wall which cut across the room.

"But-"

Hermione stood teetering, distress so very clearly reflected in her dæmon as two dull green eyes flicked away from the large ornate mirror which towered over the room.

"I agreed to it, Hermione," Harry said flatly.

Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara flinched, as Harry's attention skimmed across them from behind his shimmering prison.

"It's not that I'm not glad you're back, Harry," Hermione said, voice wavering. "But the inquiry was meant to be totally independent, if you're not going to tell the truth-"

Harry didn't even see fit to answer this. Instead he fixed his gaze back firmly on Tom and Lyra in the depths of the mirror.

"Yeah, fine," Draco scoffed. "Just leave Harry locked up in St. Mungo's then."

"But the inquiry-" Hermione started as Ramiron shuffled.

"Will change nothing now Harry is soulless," Draco said coldly. "The Ministry could lock him up forever and no one would blink an eye."

Ron who'd been slightly preoccupied with Sephronia's continued distress, glanced back up at this to glare at Draco.

"You never actually said if you'd ever seen one?" Ron said.

Draco shrugged, looking far too nonchalant considering Adara was curled up against his chest.

"Once, when my father took me into the Ministry," Draco said.

Harry's head snapped up causing all three dæmons to flinch again.

"They keep dementors at the ministry?"

Draco nodded.

"Dementors are very good at keeping dæmons subdued, the Ministry use them to guard prisoners. Azkaban is full of them."

Even though the mirror was suppressing Harry's hunger, he could never forget his need, the uncontrollable want to take a dæmon for his own. Harry shivered, the temptation all too fresh.

"How is that possible?" Harry said, throat tight. "Why don't the dementors feed on them?"

Hermione blanched causing Ramiron to let out a small squeal.

"Well I don't think it's that graphic," Draco continued as he rolled his eyes. "They just sort of suck them in I think."

Hermione tugged Ramiron closer in her arms as Ron ran his fingers through Sephronia's fur.

"Don't say that!"

"Why not? It's true, isn't it?" Draco said as Adara buried herself in his grip. "Anyway, a dementor is relatively stable, they've already devoured a dæmon. It's just a person without their dæmon is something else entirely which is why you're lucky they let you come back to school in the first place."

"Well I guess it doesn't matter for long," Ron said sullenly. "They're still unsure about whether to keep the school open."

Harry felt something hard slam into the pit of his stomach as desperate panic descended. No one had mentioned that. He looked to Draco in hope that he'd deny it, but the Slytherin only confirmed his fears with a single shrug.

"They're going to shut Hogwarts? Why? They can't do that!" Harry said.

"It's certainly being considered, imagine if you'd have died or turned-" Hermione trailed off before clearing her throat. "Everyone is scared, Harry. First there was the death of Zoe Westwark and her rooster, and then you disappear without any warning and everyone assumed you'd been arrested."

"Arrested?" Harry swallowed.

"Everyone thought Tom had done it," Ron shrugged. "Only then the ministry release a statement saying it was Tom who'd been attacked-"

Harry looked blankly between the three of them, before he enviably had to flick his eyes back to the mirrors perfect reflection.

"Don't you see, Harry?" Hermione said as she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Who would attack Tom? That's basically suicide, it would have to be something really powerful and dark."

There was a horrible blanket silence at this. Harry shook his head, as he scrunched his eyes closed momentarily. Tom had to be okay.

"To be fair, most people don't know that Tom isn't the only part of the Dark Lord," Draco said lightly. "If they thought taking him out wouldn't have any further repercussions."

Every pair of eyes shot to Draco at this. Even Harry's eyes snapped back open and he glanced away from the mirror briefly.

"What?" Draco said with a finger jabbing towards Harry as his expression soured. "You think I didn't find out about the Dark Lord after I helped you and Tom escape from my home. My father was furious with me!"

"That was Tom's idea," Harry said numbly.

Draco crossed his arms as Adara shifted onto his shoulder. She curled her tail tightly around Draco's neck.

"My father made it very clear about how much I messed up," Draco said.

"Ah ha," Ron said triumphantly, causing Sephronia to jump. "So your dad is a Death Eater-"

But Draco looked less than impressed, even Adara lifted her head to snarl at Sephronia.

"You're friends with Harry," Draco said coldly. "And I'm pretty sure him and Tom know. Plus the Death Eaters are hardly the enemy at the moment."

"They are-" Ron started furiously.

"Really? So what's worse?" Draco said coldly. "Killing someone or separating them from their dæmon?"

Ron didn't answer, he didn't need to as he glanced awkwardly at Harry.

"Draco has a good point, Ron," Hermione said. "Despite the Death Eaters attacking the ministry last year, the outrage was directed towards the Ministry."

Ron crossed his arms, still furious with Draco.

"What about muggleborns then?" Ron said suddenly. "Death Eaters persecute them and they have dæmons."

Draco only smiled thinly, eyes flicking in destain to Hermione before they landed on Ramiron.

"That's because Muggleborns don't make any sense," Draco said.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked confused.

Strangely enough it was Hermione who answered, and her voice was oddly quiet.

"It's because Muggles don't have dæmons," she said.

"Just because you can't see a dæmon, doesn't mean they're not there," Harry said, thinking back to Lyra.

"Well usually I would agree with you," Hermione said. "But Dementors don't feed on muggles, which implies they don't have souls."

There was more silence at this, and Harry genuinely didn't know what to say. Hermione stroked Ramiron gently, as her eyes threatening more tears.

"This is why muggleborns are seen as something else entirely. How did Ramiron come to be? I'm was never supposed to have a soul."

"He's a corruption," Draco said matter of factly.

Ron drew his wand furiously and even Sephronia showed some life as she barked loudly. Even Hermione seemed taken aback at the statement.

"Take that back," Ron snapped.

But Draco didn't seen phased.

"He's a dæmon that was never meant to be," Draco said. "It's unnatural. You can always tell a corrupted dæmon from a pure dæmon."

"That's nonsense," Ron hissed, "It's never been proven. A dæmon is a dæmon regardless."

But that wasn't true. Harry's stomach churned as he shook his head.

"Sephronia said Tom was wrong," Harry interrupted quietly. "When we first met on the Hogwarts Express."

Ron's expression faltered and he seemed lost for words for a moment.

Sephronia didn't like the attention Harry was giving her as she buried her head into Ron's lap.

"I'm not the only one," Sephronia squeaked. "Ramiron thinks it too."

"Don't bring me into this," Ramiron hissed.

"Of course he would be different," Adara snarled, as she lifted her head from Draco's shoulder. "He's the Dark Lord, he is more than a dæmon."

"So you all feel it?" Harry's said as his heart twisted.

None of them wanted to answer and that was confirmation enough.

What was wrong with Tom.

But Tom's reflection offered Harry no further comfort as he remained painfully mute.

Harry had more questions, but fortunately for Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara they were spared any attention as there was a sudden sharp knock on the door. A heavy bolt slide open and an auror, dressed in plain robes appeared.

"That's an hour," he said gruffly, while his dæmon barely peered into the room.

Draco stood and straightened down his robes as Adara all but leapt onto the floor and out of the door.

"I'll speak to my father again," Draco said. "If anyone took Tom, he'll be the first to hear of it."

Harry nodded, because he couldn't find his voice.

"See you later," Ron said with a sad smile as Sephronia also darted out of the room.

"We'll keep looking," Hermione assured Harry, as Ramiron squirmed in her jumper. "There's bound to be some clue as to where Tom is."

* * *

It was the same prison, but with one fundamental difference. Harry had homework.

Not that Harry had his wand, it was still lost with Tom and the Ministry hadn't seen him fit enough to have another one.

So Harry was left with numerous rolls of parchments to complete for his professors. Only Harry was currently glaring at his scribbles that were still a foot short of a completed essay. Tom had always been good at words and even the most complicated theories seemed so simple.

Not that any of it mattered. Everything was pointless, none of this would help Harry actually find Tom again.

Harry crumpled up the parchment, all but hurling it towards the mirror as he stared blankly at its surface.

"Where are you?" Harry started, voice breaking as his fists curled up tightly. But Tom offered him no answer. Instead, the mirror remained tauntingly unchanged, unable to show Harry Tom's location.

Harry stood and approached the mirror, eyes narrowing as it only gloated what Harry could not touch.

"Where are you?" Harry repeated harder this time, staring into the mirrors depths, but no image would take away Harry's completeness, the perfect soul which Harry would always desire. Harry slammed his fist into the glass, wishing it would shatter, and that Tom and Lyra would be released from its hold.

Only the mirror held firm as Harry's own reflection entwined his hand back into Tom's. Harry kicked its base, resentment and jealously simmering.

It wasn't fair.

The door clicked open and Harry whipped around, senses spiralling as Einaris slipped in through the opening. As expected Professor McGonagall followed and she stepped forwards to place a set of textbooks on the table. The shimmering shield moved around it, absorbing them onto Harry's side of the room.

But Harry was left, hunger blurring as he all but threw his gaze back to what he so desperately ached for.

"If you have read chapters seven through to nine," Professor McGonagall started, oblivious to Harry's torment. "We'll move onto the theory of turning white rabbits into slippers."

Einaris, just like Ramiron, Sephronia and Adara tucked himself into a small ball in the corner. His cat tail flicked as his large wide rimmed eyes watched Harry with fear.

"Yes, Professor," Harry muttered.

McGonagall nodded, but her lips were pressed tightly thin as her eyes shone with a horrible pity.

* * *

The most boring of Harry's lessons was probably Defence with Professor Lockhart. Lockhart continued to spend many an hour retelling his adventures while Minnie seemed less than enthused as she squashed herself into the bottom of Lockhart's trouser leg.

"Professor, is there anything capable of taking a dæmon? That's not a dementor, I mean," Harry interrupted when Lockhart finished telling him how he'd last fought off a ghoul.

Lockhart paused and he blinked a couple of times, his pristine smile slipping.

"Harry, I specialise in Defence Against the Dark Arts, not well, the Dark Arts."

Harry frowned, disappointment growing.

"But you must have come across something-"

"Well of course I have, Harry," Lockhart stumbled, before he suddenly pulled out a very fancy golden watch.

"But look at the time, I'm terribly sorry, Harry," Lockhart flashed him a pathetic smile as Minnie moved to scratch at the locked door. "I have an appointment with a very old friend this evening, I saved him from a werewolf back in the day, and I've had these plans for months-"

Lockhart was out the door before Harry could get another word in.

And Snape wasn't much better. In fact, he was the complete opposite as he barely spoke to Harry at all.

He'd walk in, give Harry a fresh piece of text to read and a number of questions to answer as he'd critique the last set of answers Harry had given him.

This seemed to be Snape's favourite part, as he'd sneer at Harry's attempts, while Laraine would watch with her wide bat eyes from atop of the door.

"It seems that your vague competency at potions was clearly due to taking advantage of Mr Riddle's knowledge," Snape sneered.

Harry jerked his hand at this, causing ink to splatter across his attempt to describe a swelling solution.

Harry needed to find Tom and soon.

* * *

"By the sound of it, Flint's as obsessed with Wood at winning the Quidditch cup," Ron said when Harry questioned Draco's absence the following week. "Either that or Adara can't cope."

Sephronia perked up at this, before she ducked back down, ears fattening and tale between her legs as Harry looked at her.

"To be honest, it's probably better Malfoy's not here," Hermione said as Ramiron braved peeking out his usual spot in her jumper.

Harry perked up, hope erupting.

"Did you find anything?" Harry asked hurriedly.

Hermione nodded and Harry's heart swelled as she approached the table sitting in the centre of the room. She placed a red covered book which had a picture of four or five animals on the front, along with an elegantly written title.

_Of Dæmons, Demons and Daimons_

"It's the book Tom asked me to get out the Restricted Section of the library weeks back," Hermione said. "I had to go through your things to find it, Tom had it well hidden."

"It's just about Daemons though," Ron said. "Why would it be in the restricted section?"

"Well it has some really interesting spells that affect dæmons, but then it also touches upon Splintering, Shape-Shifting and Dementors," Hermione said.

Harry frowned.

"What are splintering and shape shifting?"

Surprisingly it was Ramiron who answered, but he clearly regretted it as Harry looked at him.

"Splintering is what happens as a result of Pulling, like when you lost your dæmon. Shape-Shifting is what Cyrilla can do."

"Neville's dæmon?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded.

Harry picked up the book and flicked through the first through pages.

"I don't know if it means anything," Hermione said. "But any information, even if its small, has to help, right?"

Tom had highlighted a number of paragraphs, including a section on Dementors and something which touched upon summoning Demons. It was the last section however, which had Harry stopping with a frown.

_Stealing Dæmons._

But it was Tom's neat scribble which really turned Harry's stomach.

Just below he'd scribed one name.

_Riddle_

Blood pounded in his ears. Harry had almost forgotten the other piece of Voldemort's soul. But what did Tom mean.

Riddle was a dæmon, but this made no sense. He couldn't steal a dæmon, so why had Tom written Riddle's name down.

"Harry-"

Harry jerked his head up making Ramiron and Sephronia cower.

"I-what?"

"I was just saying we spoke to Ginny about the morning before Tom went missing. Well apparently, Ginny saw you when you when you were also leaving detention," Ron said.

Harry only stared blankly at them both. Everything had been so confusing, and he'd tried so hard to remember.

Harry shook his head, totally lost.

"Dumbledore didn't say," he answered lamely.

Ron gave Harry a sheepish grimace which made his stomach do an odd sort of somersault.

"Well Ginny didn't tell the aurors, I think she was scared she'd get in trouble," Ron said. "Anyway, she was just heading back to the dormitory when she overheard you and Tom. Apparently you and Tom had been fighting," Ron finished awkwardly.

A hollow lump was forming in Harry's throat.

"We were fighting?"

Ron shrugged.

"Apparently Tom was furious with you, but Ginny doesn't know why."

"I-" Harry looked back to the mirror.

Tom was standing there smiling weakly at him with Lyra once again perched happily on his shoulder. Tom slipped his hand into Harry's reflections, but this offered Harry no real warmth.

"Ginny didn't see anything else?" Harry asked numbly.

"Not really," Ron said. "She was pretty shook up about the whole thing when she had her detention."

Harry didn't want to admit it, but it hurt. What had gone so wrong. And then the doubt, growing with every panicked thought.

Surely not. They'd already been through this.

"Harry, are you okay-"

But Harry's hands clasped over his ears, drowning out Ron and Hermione's concerns. Tom wouldn't leave him, Harry knew it in his heart.

But Lyra had.

The doubt creeping in and it was suffocating, and even the mirror did little to settle the aching pain seeping through Harry.

Tom would never leave. Not by choice.

Everything was different now, Tom had chosen Harry, hadn't he? Voldemort had already played that game and Tom had proved that he would do anything to keep them together.

Why couldn't Harry remember.

"Tom wouldn't leave you, Harry."

Harry blinked, and his eyes came to focus on Hermione's sad expression. Harry hadn't realised he had spoken out loud.

"I know that, it's just-" but Harry didn't have any further words. Instead, he looked back to Ron and Hermione, desperate for some small amount of hope.

"Anything else?" Harry asked, chest tight as his voice cracked.

Now Hermione beamed, catching Harry completely off guard. She'd clearly been saving the best thing for last as she rummaged around in her school bag once more.

Ron however didn't look as excited as he frowned at Hermione.

"I'm still not convinced it's Toms. You Know Who is the last person I'd expect to keep a diary."

"I'm sorry?" Harry blinked.

Hermione looked unconcerned.

"I found this in the library, tucked in with a load of textbooks. Tom must have left it there before-"

Hermione trailed off and placed a small black book on the table in the centre. The shimmering wall curved around it, and Harry sucked in a sharp breath as he stared at the leather book, with smart lettering stamped on its front.

_T M Riddle_

But Harry didn't move to take it. In fact he looked quite reluctant to touch it.

"Harry," Hermione expression faltering as she waited expectantly.

Harry remained deadly still as his stomach did a horrible sort of somersault.

Ramiron squeaked and he tucked himself under Hermione's arm.

"Is everything okay?"

Harry shook his head.

Sephronia too was cowering, distraught at whatever Harry was projecting.

"Tom didn't have a diary," Harry said quietly.

"See, I told you," Ron said with a nod towards Hermione as he knelt down to scratch Sephronia behind her ears. "I mean what sort of Dark Lord keeps a diary? It doesn't really suit the evil image?"

"I think it suits Tom perfectly," Hermione said matter of factly.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"It's completely blank," he said. "Maybe it was just an unwanted gift or something?"

Harry's gaze sharpened.

"It's blank?"

"Not that we were going to read it of course," Hermione hurried, holding out her hands. "But Tom must have it protected, you know, so only he can unlock it. You might not even have known he had it-"

"Tom didn't have a diary," Harry repeated coldly.

Hermione's eyes widened as Ramiron panicked. He dived from his cover to skirt around her heels. Hermione opened her mouth as if to argue, but at Ramiron's tremor she clamped it shut.

Harry stared at the otter, tail wrapped around Hermione's feet as he did anything but return Harry's stare.

"Well maybe Tom never got a chance to write in it," Sephronia added, as the small terrier dashed out from Ron's arms to stand between Harry and Ramiron.

Whatever Sephronia hoped to achieve, it didn't work as she sank low to the floor, tail tucked between her legs as Harry glared at Hermione.

How dare she assume that Harry didn't know Tom.

"Harry-" Hermione had found her voice. "C-could you stop staring at Ramiron?"

Harry looked up, eyes simmering.

"Y-you're scaring him-" Hermione said as she scooped up a distressed Ramiron.

Harry smiled coldly.

"Good."

The darkness only grew as Ramiron's and Sephronia's animal instincts took hold. That they knew that if wasn't for the mirror Harry would want to hunt them.

"H-Harry, the mirror?" Ron seemed to be suffocating in whatever presence Harry was projecting.

But Harry had no desire for the mirror, not now. Not when there were two dæmons so ready for him to take, and not even the simmering protection which stayed between them could stop him.

And then a flicker.

Harry's attention snapped back to the diary, eyes narrowing as his hunger twisted.

Everything else in the room was suddenly blind to him. The dæmons, the mirror, only the diary with a soul so fresh and ready for Harry to take.

But Harry didn't pick it up. Instead his fingers just brushed across the leather binding as he turned the cover open. Even the slight contact was enough to have Harry's heart racing, as a mixture of both his hunger and longing flared.

And then pain, snapping through his scar as Harry hissed, his fingers clamping to his forehead as he withdrew. Harry all but threw himself back to his reflection as his chest rose and fell with ever sharp breath.

But still that soft touch of leather lingered and the rush which shot through him was a mixture of pure exaltation, something that the mirror had only failed to achieve.

"It feels like him," Harry stated, his voice breaking.

Ron and Hermione were deadly still, both with their backs against the door with their dæmons in their arms. Hermione braved a step forwards.

"Oh, Harry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make things worse-"

No diary should be capable, but Harry couldn't pull himself back from the mirror as Tom's silent gaze met his own.

"I-I didn't mean Tom," Harry choked.

The diary lay open, disturbed on whatever page Harry had flicked it too, but it was just like Ron said.

It was blank.

* * *

Harry turned the diary, page by page, fingers tracing over its leather spine. The book itself was radiant, brimming with a darkness so soothing and so achingly familiar that with Harry's depravity he only craved for more.

This was Voldemort, and despite Harry's itch to throw the book away and never touch it again, he couldn't help but want to hang onto it forever. Harry placed the diary carefully on his bed covers as he dipped his quill into some ink. He let it hover above the page for a moment.

And then he wrote one word, the only word that mattered.

_Tom_

Tom's name sank into the page, and Harry was left staring at the same blank page.

"It's not a very good diary," Harry mumbled.

The silence rang around him, just like it had for days. Harry flicked another page and placed the nib of the quill to the page once more. This time Harry held it in place, watching as the black ink absorbed into the page.

The diary hummed, and Harry flexed his fingers backwards at the tingling sensation. There was definitely something there, something Harry desperately longed for, and it wasn't a product of the Mirror of Erised's influence.

And then another name, mostly because Harry hoped he could slip away, melt into the diary's pages and disappear to wherever Tom was lost.

_Harry Potter_

Only this time Harry shuddered, withdrawing the quill as something electric trickled through him.

It felt right, almost like the mirror, but not quite. It was as if the diary flickered into some sort of life that stole Harry's breath away.

And then someone spoke.

"Harry?"

Harry's soul twisted and he gasped, quill tumbling out of his hand splatting ink over his covers, staining his hands in black.

It was impossible.

Only Harry's brief euphoria came crashing down in a mass of broken glass. The disappointment was soul shattering that Harry failed to hold back the single tear that fell down his face.

It wasn't Tom.

Riddle was standing behind him, on Harry's side of the shimmering light. And Harry was sure his hunger would have flared had it not been for the diary's soothing lull.

Just like the mirror it was like he had Tom but not. A perfect representation of everything Harry craved, only Riddle would never be enough. Riddle's image had been fleeting before, and even now he remained transparent, just like a dæmon.

Harry turned his head down, lump in his throat.

"You're bound to this diary?" Harry said.

But Riddle ignored his question, and his footsteps echoed across the stone floor. The bed dipped and Riddle reached his hand out, before he stopped just inches away.

"Harry, what happened to Tom?"

Harry's heart swelled. Riddle's presence was taunting.

"I lost him."

His voice nearly broke, but Riddle didn't say anything. Harry tilted his head down, chin resting on his chest as he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Voldemort will kill me for losing him."

But maybe that was a good thing.

When Riddle spoke, his voice was so soft, and his hands came to rest on the pages of the diary.

"Harry, I need you to write in it."

Harry blinked. Surely Riddle should be furious with him, would kill him even. But Riddle only tilted his head just like Tom used to do.

"If you write, it will link us together. You won't feel empty anymore," Riddle said.

Harry's fingers curled instinctively around the small black book as he pressed it against his chest.

"You mean I'll stop feeling like this?"

Riddle slipped from the bed, crouching down just in front of Harry, hand brushing over his forehead. Riddle didn't make contact though, he was just close enough to sweep Harry's hair away.

"Connect yourself to me and I can help. I can anchor your soul."

It was a horrible longing, the want to just lean straight into Riddle's embrace, but Harry remained just perched on the edge of his bed.

"You'll fade, Harry," Riddle said. "And I can't let that happen to you. You're too important."

Bile rose in Harry's throat and he tightened his grip on the diary. But when he spoke his voice was empty.

"Why are you here?"

An odd look crossed Riddle's face and his expression darkened.

"The Dark Lord is furious," Riddle said, a hard edge to his voice. "He does not take kindly to someone attacking a part of him."

So Voldemort had sent him, Harry figured as much.

"How did you get into the Hogwarts library?" Harry asked numbly.

But Riddle didn't seem to care to answer as he flashed Harry a smile. "It is very fortunate you returned to Hogwarts. I had fears I would not be able to find you in time, before you would be lost."

Here Riddle paused, hands itching forwards but he didn't touch Harry.

"If something happens to you, the Dark Lord all but guarantees the loss of his soul. I can stabilise you and in return assure both your safety and Tom's," Riddle said.

"Voldemort doesn't care about my safety," Harry muttered.

"True," Riddle admitted, eyes suddenly alight. "But the Dark Lord wants your blood and you wouldn't be very useful dead or demented."

"How fortunate," Harry said glumly. "So you're here to take me to him?"

Riddle's mouth twitched at this, but he didn't deny it.

Instead he remained on the floor before Harry as he picked up the ink splattered quill. He held it out.

"Write in it, Harry. We are bound together through the Dark Lord. This will give you strength and let you be whole again."

If only it was that easy.

Harry made to stand, his body trembling as he moved away from Riddle. Riddle in turn anticipated Harry's movements as his cold fingers enclosed gently around Harry's wrist.

"Harry, you can't rely on the mirror."

Harry gasped, nearly falling into Riddle as his heart stopped. It was completeness, so perfect and everything that the mirrors cold hard glass would never be able to give him.

"I-I can't," Harry stumbled, but in turn he could feel Riddle's longing, his own need to connect to something that wasn't the blank pages of a diary.

"I-stop it."

It was so much effort to say no. Riddle's brow furrowed and although he hesitated he let go.

The effect was instant, as Harry leant back against the wall, chest rising and falling sharply as his eyes blinked shut.

"Don't-don't ever do that again," Harry said.

"Harry, I-"

Harry's eyes snapped open and Riddle at least had the decency to stand and take a wary step back. Riddle knew that Harry could claim him, could rip apart Voldemort's fractured soul to take broken and bleeding for himself.

The want was terrifying in itself.

"I know what you're capable of," Harry said, voice wavering. Tom had shown Harry that he was susceptible without Lyra, that Harry's will was so easy to bend. And if Tom had proven himself capable, then Riddle certainly was. And this made Harry so afraid.

Could Riddle manipulate him so easily. Would Harry even be aware of Riddle doing it again and would he be able to resist. Would he walk to Voldemort willingly if Riddle desired it.

"I was just trying to help-" Riddle started cautiously.

"I need to think clearly and I can't do that if you touch me." Harry said as he stumbled towards the mirror.

Tom's perfect reflection smiled back at Harry, his own hand coming to gently stroke Lyra.

At least the mirror cleared Harry's muddy thoughts. Whatever connection he had with Riddle was weak, and nothing could break his deepest desire, not even the hunger of taking a dæmon for his own.

Riddle hadn't moved to follow him, he remained still, unmoving and he hadn't tried to touch Harry again.

"Why don't you look in the mirror?" Harry asked quietly.

For the first time, Riddle's gaze slipped away from Harry. But just like Tom, he didn't look in the mirrors reflection. Instead he leant against the wall.

"I already know what I want," Riddle said. "And the mirror would only be a distraction from achieving my goal."

It was the same answer that Tom had given before and Harry understood it so perfectly this time.

Harry looked back to his reflection, knowing that it wasn't Tom. This Tom was silent, and although he filled the space in Harry's aching heart, it wasn't his Tom.

Harry watched Lyra settle in his reflection's lap, her small head coming to rest on his arm. The twisting knot in Harry's stomach tightened and his throat ran dry.

And then a different question, one Harry had not asked before because he'd been too caught up with Lyra.

"I still don't know what you want," Harry said. "You never said what you are looking for, what do you see in the mirror?"

Riddle was silent for a moment, head tilting as a sad smile graced his lips.

"We have the same goal, Harry" Riddle said. "I am incomplete, just like you."

"I doubt that," Harry said, but even as he said it he didn't believe it. The diary was so empty, so lonely compared to any other connection. Even the lack of response of someone by his side had been so hurtful, so desperately terrifying.

Riddle was here not because Voldemort had commanded it, and not because Riddle wanted Harry. Riddle had already told Harry his intentions months ago when they had first met.

"You're using me to find what you lost?" Harry said quietly.

"Can you blame me?" Riddle said, eyes a lot colder than Harry remembered. Riddle stood, holding the diary out to Harry.

"What I don't understand if why you won't do the same?"

"I-What?" Now Harry spun around, eyes locked on Riddle.

"I can't trust you, I can't rely on you-" Harry started.

"You don't have to trust me, Harry," Riddle said sharply. "And you are failing to understand, I depend on you just as much, if not more. Why are you so afraid of getting closer to achieve your goal? Would you not go to any length to find Tom again? You won't find him if you stay trapped in here."

Harry blushed fiercely, fingers curling into fists.

"You'll use me, I'm not stupid," Harry said. But Riddle had a point, Tom would have gone to any length to find him. He had already done so with the guillotine and he would have done something equally as dangerous to take Harry back.

Riddle sighed, almost like he was disappointed.

"I had your word, Harry."

Harry faulted, his stomach churning. And it was so tempting to give in, but Harry could imagine Tom's desperation, his need to keep Riddle and Harry apart. But Riddle would make him stronger, and Harry would be able to find Tom without being bound to the mirror.

Riddle took a step closer to Harry, and then a smirk.

"It would be a lot easier if you didn't fight me the whole way, I'm not Tom," Riddle said.

A mixture of anger and guilt flared through Harry as his stomach jolted.

"You don't know anything-"

"I watched you both often enough at Malfoy Manor," Riddle said casually. "You weren't exactly getting along."

"It's not like that any more, we got better-" Harry stammered.

Riddle laughed at this and he gestured his hands to the very notably empty room.

Harry flushed, despair rocking through him, but he'd already agreed, there was no backing away now. Harry looked to the diary, held in Riddle's hands, before looking back to the mirror.

Tom was standing forwards just in front of Harry's reflection which had Lyra perched on his shoulder. But Tom didn't say a word and his expression remained in the same warm smile as he remained unable to show anything but Harry's restless desire.

Harry would do anything to have Tom standing before him. And this was his way to find him.

"Fine," Harry said as his fingers grazed the leather cover of the diary.

"What should I write?"

Riddle grinned.

* * *

"My son says that Potter recalls nothing, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy bowed low as Chandraki also dipped her head.

Quirrell stood, turban on the floor as red eyes flashed. He was supposed to have his body back by now. Riddle had sworn he'd return to him both his soul and the boy, alive and unharmed.

"Riddle," Voldemort hissed. "What are you planning?"


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

Riddle flicked into existence, arms crossed and eyebrows raised at the chaotic scene before him.

Glass was strewn across the floor as black ink pooled around the soles of his shoes. His diary lay open amongst the debris, its pages ruffled as meaningless ink sunk deep into his being.

Potter was standing amongst the broken glass, breathing heavily as his blood shot eyes fixed straight onto him. But it was the darkness that was alarming, it smouldered around the boy, so cold and encompassing that Riddle flexed his fingers, unsure whether to draw the wand concealed in his pocket.

"I'm guessing it didn't go well?" Riddle asked lightly as he leant back on the mirrors grand frame.

Potter's lips parted as his pale expression contorted.

"Scrimgeour," Potter spat the name as the darkness swelled. "Doesn't think I'm stable enough, he treats me like I'm soulless already."

Riddle tilted his head as his eyes narrowed.

"You are soulless."

"I have you," Potter said bluntly, but even as he said it, his dull eyes swung back to his reflection as he stepped forwards, socks staining in a mixture of ink and blood from where his feet had crunched into the broken ink bottle.

"Harry," Riddle stepped to the side, blocking Potter's view as he placed his hand firmly on Potter's shoulder. Potter faulted, his body tense as he drew a single sharp breath.

"The Ministry will never let you out," Riddle said, as a faint hum spiked between them. "Not while you remain tied to the mirror-"

"I didn't look in the mirror once," Potter snapped, knocking Riddle's hand away. "And I tried not look at their souls-"

_Don't look at their dæmons._

That was the last message Riddle had given him, and it was clear from Potter's anger, from his complete despair that he had failed to show the Ministry that he was capable of such restraint.

Riddle sighed, disappointment apparent as his hand fell back to his side.

"What did Scrimgeour actually say?" Riddle asked.

Potter's expression darkened.

"He said I should be grateful enough they let me back to Hogwarts and that as long as I don't have a dæmon, I will never leave this room," Potter said.

"Which is why you need to show them you don't appear to need one," Riddle said. "You know my diary can-"

But Potter was losing patience now, he'd heard it all before, and not even the distant thrum of terror which flashed between them was enough to break his resolve.

"Move," Potter hissed as his curled his bandaged fingers at his sides. The darkness crept outwards, twisting in such a coldness that Riddle's fingers curled instinctively around the hidden wand.

No wonder Scrimgeour had been impassible, Potter was totally unhinged.

"Harry, you're being unreasonable, I'm just trying to help-" Riddle reached out his other hand cautiously, fingers skimming lightly across the top of Potter's cool forehead.

Only this time Potter didn't knock his hand away, instead his head shot up, eyes glowering but otherwise perfectly still, even the darkness seemed to retreat for a moment, and Riddle thought the boy had calmed.

And then Potter was stepping backwards, his mouth splitting into a delirious grin.

"Maybe your diary can help," Potter's voice was oddly quiet, his haunted eyes slipping onto the small black book as the darkness licked soundlessly across the top of his diary's open pages.

"One soul. That's all it would take, right?"

The shadow reacted, and Riddle felt the icy cold latch hold as the very depths of his soul twisted, pulling against his will.

"If you want revenge on the Ministry, this is not the way," Riddle hissed, stepping forwards abruptly. "Devour me and you destroy yourself. The Ministry control the dementors. You would give them that power over you?"

"They will never control me," Potter snapped. "They will regret the moment they put me and Tom in the guillotine. That they locked me away-"

But Potter's attention was already drifting, distracted by his instincts and the fresh soul before him, laid out and so easy to take.

Riddle took another step closer, just so they were only a few feet apart.

"There is only one way out, we've discussed this," Riddle hissed.

Potter laughed, eyes alight in sick amusement as if he knew his terrible fate.

"I've written in your diary. I don't know what else you want."

Now that was a lie.

The boy was not offering enough, even the Weasley girl Riddle had formed a tighter bond with, but Riddle would find a way to take what he needed, one way or another. Potter could only resist for so long.

Riddle knelt down suddenly, startling Potter as his knee cut into the broken glass and a dim pain shot between them.

"I'm offering you my soul, Harry" Riddle said, tugging Potter's wrists into his grip. Potter flinched, uncertainty flickering in his eyes but he didn't draw away, to memorised as the shadow twisted. "You can have it, I am willing to share myself with you. But, if you take it whole, if you devour what I am not offering, and you turn-" Here Riddle paused mouth curling into a cold smirk, despite his frozen eyes. "Do you know what you will do if you ever find Tom again?"

Potter jerked his head, failing to still his shaking hands.

"You will take him as if he was any other, you would destroy his very being, just to satisfy your hunger," Riddle continued. "Tom would never be the same again to you again. You would long for him forever, but would not hesitate to claim him."

Now Potter, practically melted at his touch, held calm in Riddle's lightest of touches, as his fingers skimmed across Potter's exposed skin, just enough so that the boy would not protest.

And then Potter spoke, his voice so quiet, his fearful gaze locked on the one thing that would destroy them both completely.

"What if I'm hanging on for no reason, what if Tom has gone already?"

The shadow withered, withdrawing from Riddle's diary as the despair fell back into the boy.

"You need to give yourself to me, Harry," Riddle said softly, his thumbs moved to stroke over Potter's wrists. Potter shuddered, eyes slamming shut. "I've told you, I can stabilise your soul and help you find Tom. If you just write in my diary more-"

Potter's shoulder's only sagged at this, his expression shadowed despite his eyes locking back to where the mirror stood. Riddle's grip tightened, his own fingers holding Potter in place as he barely contained his own anger.

This was not supposed to happen. Potter had promised he'd connect himself, give himself to Riddle but still the boy was refusing, even when his own soul hung precariously in danger.

Riddle had no other option, not when every day he lingered was a growing risk.

"The mirror needs to be destroyed," Riddle whispered as he squeezed his fingers. "Only then will the Ministry see that you are strong enough, that you do not need to be contained."

Riddle had expected the boy to argue, to protest and grow into an uncontrollable panic, however, Potter's only blinked his eyes shut as he nodded once.

"I know."

Riddle's lips tugged into the smallest of smiles, only something must have slipped between them as Potter jerked backwards suddenly, pulling out of Riddle's hold as he scratched his bandaged hands through his untamed hair. The shadow flicked hungrily to life.

"W-wait," Potter stammered, "We aren't connected properly yet-"

"And whose fault is that?" Riddle said coolly, his transparent form was evidence for that. "How many days have you wasted already, I've been with you a week and you've barely written a thing, and with each passing day your chances of finding Tom diminish."

Potter opened his mouth to argue, but his voice died as his own fingers twisted something terrible. The fear rippled across their weak connection and the darkness itched back towards Riddle's diary.

Potter stilled, his breathing tight at the harsh realisation that he might already be to late.

"I can't do this without the mirror," Potter said as he clenched his eyes shut.

Riddle sighed as he stood, his own knees now soaked from the ink. There was no discussing this with the boy, every second attempting to do so was wasted.

But Potter had a point, one minute really couldn't hurt. And this time there were no second chances.

Riddle twisted Potter around abruptly, startling him only momentarily as Riddle placed him before the mirror.

Potter relaxed instantly, his creased forehead disappearing as he placed his burning forehead against the glass. Potter was still for a moment, chest rising and falling sharply before his breathing came to an even pace. The darkness, so ensnaring and deadly was gone.

Riddle lent against the edge of the mirror, arm over the top of Potter's head as he looked down at him.

"Scrimgeour is right," Potter's said as his fingers trembled against the mirror. "I can't leave this room, I can't leave the mirror, not without becoming-"

"And you're failing to understand, I won't let you turn, Harry," Riddle's eyes were smoldering with a coldness the boy had not seen before. Potter took a step back, despite his need to cling onto the mirror, but knowing he had to let go.

Every second was crucial, every moment Potter was complete his own inhibitions would be returning, his own reasoning would put a rift between their connection.

The boy was annoyingly resilient.

"I need them both," Potter whispered as he pressed his hand against the surface.

Riddle's head snapped up at this, eyes almost catching his own reflection. He itched to push the diary into the Potter's hands, to urge him to write, but as it was Riddle only took a steadying breath.

"You see your true dæmon in the mirror?"

Potter didn't even flinch, didn't even acknowledge that Riddle had spoken aside from a flick of his eyes towards him.

But it was enough confirmation, enough to know that Riddle had decided on the right course of action. That Potter had something worthwhile to give.

And then Potter eye's were widening, his pulse quickening at the true realisation, the horror at what Riddle was about to do.

"Wait, not yet, I'm not ready," Potter started. "Don't-"

"You'll never be ready, Harry," Riddle said as he took a careful step forwards, his own hand curling gently back around Potter's outstretched fingers.

Potter flinched backwards, trying to draw away, but Riddle had him entranced already, torn between the steady hum of his comfort and the mirrors grounded influence.

"Wait-" The fear in Potter's eyes said it all. "What if you can't keep me whole-"

Riddle didn't say anything, tugging Potter close to him as he faced the object that had hampered his every advance.

The Mirror of Erised had long since tempted Riddle, it had stood tauntingly before him for days as he had waited for the boy to become dependent on him. But that had never happened.

Potter struggled, but his eyes were still captivated by shimmers of his own reflection, and this was just enough to keep the darkness at bay.

And then Riddle's eyes connected with his own prefect reflection.

And it stole his breath away.

He'd known what the mirror was capable of, but to feel it was something else entirely. Riddle melted, leaning in closer as the remnants of his soul coiled behind the mirrors surface. For a moment, Potter in his trembling form was forgotten.

Riddle had long forgotten this feeling, only dreamed of it in every waking moment. And it was so tempting, would be so easy to stay in this room forever, locked away with the one thing that would he would destroy the world for.

Riddle's fingers remained entwined around Potter's own, pressed against the glass. If only he could fall through it and take what was rightfully his.

"Soon," Riddle whispered, voice coming out in the smallest of hisses.

Potter shivered.

And then with it came the pure uncensored fury. Potter did not know heartache. How could the boy even come to understand. He who had barely been alone and would not risk everything to take back what he had lost.

Fifty years wasted. Fifty years alone.

Riddle didn't need the wand. Not when his true motivation was before him.

The mirror cracked, splintering out from the centre of their palms. The glass zigzagged out in sharp, jagged lines, cutting Potter's completeness into just as many pieces. Potter's knees gave way, but Riddle held him firm, his arm wrapped tight around the boys shoulder's as Potter's soul twisted in anguish.

A distorted Tom would still there, but he was wrong, broken as Potter's despair returned in an overwhelming instant.

Riddle was back on his knees before the boy, his skin pressed into the new debris of the mirror's glass as it cut into his legs.

"Look at me," Riddle said as Potter flinched away. Every second was crucial. Riddle caught Potter's chin, turning terrified blood shot eyes up to his own.

"Write, Harry."

"I don't want to-" Potter mumbled, as the weak connection between them flickered. The darkness already swirling, consuming around them both.

"Emotions make our connection stronger," Riddle said calmly, despite his thumping heart. If the boy failed to cooperate now, then Riddle would have no other option. His hand itched back to his wand. But Potter was strong, he'd proven that, and Potter wasn't completely soulless, not while Riddle tied him to life.

And now, finally, the Potter was writing, fingers curling around the quill, desperate for what the mirror had previously provided.

Five words, but they were were enough. For now.

_It hurts. Make it stop._

Riddle's words were forming on the page already.

_Is your scar hurting?_

Potter couldn't even bring himself to write and the ink dripped uselessly into the page. Instead Potter shook his head. Of course it shouldn't be, Riddle had seen to that.

The ink spilled out quicker now as Riddle wrote.

_Tell me about when you lost your dæmon._

Potter winced at this, pain apparent in his eyes as he shook his head feverishly.

"Harry," Riddle warned, as his hand swept back Potter's fringe. Potter was burning up, his forehead alight despite the coolness trickling from his scar. "Tell me and I can help."

Potter nodded numbly, his hand shaking, writing barely legible as he turned his attention back to the diary.

_It felt like this. Like ice._

Riddle faltered, his own memories resurfacing with Potter's uncontrollable shaking. And then Potter's next words, scribbled and full of desperation.

_I need Tom._

Riddle knelt down, palm still pressed completely against Potter's forehead. Potter shot him a wary look, but he only drew closer as Riddle twisted the boys emotions to his own. Now the mirror was gone, Potter didn't stand a chance.

"You have me, Harry." And then more words, seeping from the pages.

_Tell me about that day, tell me what happened with the guillotine._

Again Potter's writing was barely legible. His hand shaking as the quill nearly slipped from beneath his fingers.

_I thought she didn't want me._

And for all Potter's scribbles, everything that he had written before had meant nothing. This was real substance. Potter must have known it too, as his breathing slowed, the darkness stilling.

_Why wouldn't she want you?_

Riddle's own writing was perfect in comparison, despite his own urgency, the desperate need for Potter to tell him more.

_I said I didn't want her._

Riddle hurried to reply, but Potter continued, soft tears falling into the diary.

_I didn't mean it. I never wanted her to leave._

It was a testament to what Potter had denied him, that now Riddle had something meaningful. The quill fell from Potter's hand as their connection steadied, coming to a sort of angry stable hum.

But Riddle didn't mind, he had enough for now as he pulled Potter's hands back into his own, if anything to stop the boy from rubbing his own skin to blisters.

_Rest and keep me close._

Potter nodded numbly.

It wasn't much, but Potter hadn't tried to attack him at least, which was a significant improvement from last time.

Riddle unraveled his fingers from around the wand as he breathed a sigh of relief. It really would've been a shame if he'd had to kill the boy, but as it was months of progress was finally coming together. He flicked his eyes back to the empty frame, nothing would stop him now.

* * *

Harry lay motionless, his eyes scrunched up as his heart pounded violently in his chest. Every breath was empty, jagged and sharp as he shivered. The urge for a soul was still there, but oddly muted and withdrawn.

Harry's eyes flicked open as he scrambled up, disoriented by the disruption to his usual routine as he came to a still on the edge of his bed, staring at his shimmering prison and the empty frame before him. It was like first year all over again, and Harry exhaled, trying to bury the distinct despair that the mirror, his one salvation, was now useless.

Instead Harry was left fumbling with the diary, desperate for that rush, the fix that he needed. Only Harry remained still as his quill hovered uselessly above the pages.

"How long was I asleep?" Harry asked as he felt the bed dip behind him.

"A few hours, it's not yet dawn."

Riddle's arms slipped around him, the gently lull soothing despite Harry's heartache.

Harry drew back, instinctively, thoughts strained as he tried to piece together his own disjointed desires.

"Stay still," Riddle muttered. His fingers curled tightly around Harry's wrist as he held him close.

The nails digging in hurt, but Harry wasn't about to give Riddle the satisfaction. Harry fidgeted as Riddle placed a hand on Harry's forehead, sweeping back his hair to reveal his scar.

"No, don't-"

"Stay still," Riddle repeated. This time his voice was colder.

As soon as his hand pressed against Harry's forehead the pain dissipated. Harry couldn't help it, he sunk forwards, leaning into Riddle's embrace as warmth coursed into him. It was like he was grounded, a part of his soul whole again.

It was what Tom used to do.

Riddle's grin widened, his eyes dancing in clear contentment as Harry felt the satisfied hum spark between them.

"No," Harry kicked away, but he instantly regretted it. The emptiness returned, consuming and overwhelming.

Harry jumped forwards, arms coming to wrap around Riddle's waist. He hated himself, but the emptiness was worse.

"What did you do?" Harry hissed. But Riddle didn't need to answer, Harry's memories from the previous night were disturbingly clear. The ice, the useless shards now scattered across the floor.

And the worst part was that Harry had barely resisted, he'd done what Riddle wanted, been unable to prevent the destruction of the one thing he depended on.

Riddle smiled, hand coming to rest on Harry's head as he looked down at him.

"I told you I wouldn't let you turn."

And it was unnervingly true, Harry felt oddly grounded. The hunger was still there, the itch that was not quite satisfied, but it was minor in comparison to his usual absence from the mirror.

"Let go of me," Harry said, but even as he said it, he knew his request was half hearted. Riddle's eyes softened as his mouth tugged into a smile as he ruffled Harry's hair.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

But Harry couldn't find the words, he wanted to scream, to push Riddle away but it was so hard when the familiarity was only growing with every second, as if Harry had forgotten what Tom used to feel like.

"Stop it," Harry muttered, as his eyes flicked to the diary lying before him on the bed. But the urge to write more was only growing as Riddle held him calm, as Riddle teased his fingers across his exposed skin.

"I can't give you what you want-" Harry continued, gaze unfocused as he attempted but failed to pull himself away.

Riddle rolled his eyes.

"You don't have a choice, Harry. You won't survive long if you continue to deny me."

But Harry was blinking, desperate to hang onto to what he once was as he stared blankly at a piece of the shattered mirror, wishing that Tom and Lyra were still hidden in it's surface.

"Haven't I given you enough?" Harry said.

Riddle laughed.

"You have given me nothing. You are barely sustaining yourself. Even now, you refuse our bond, fail to support our connection. You are hanging onto reality by a thread, gambling with your very being."

And Harry knew that what Riddle said was true, Riddle was definitely less solid than he had appeared last night.

Harry shut the cover, fingers now tracing over the elegant golden stamp of Tom's name.

"I've nothing I want to say to you."

His hunger simmered and the darkness flicked slightly.

"You're deteriorating already," Riddle said lightly, all amusement gone from his expression. "You need to give me something if you don't want to fall into shadow already."

"I'm cooperating aren't I?" Harry muttered.

"Hardly," Riddle's voice was suddenly deadly, his grip tightening painfully. "You hold onto your old attachments, you have no desire to completely connect yourself to me, even though I had your promise."

"I have every intention to honour my word," Harry whispered. "But finding Tom comes first."

That was the one thing that Harry was certain.

"Is that so?"

There was an edge to Riddle's voice, one that Harry couldn't place, but it unnerved him.

And then Riddle was shifting away and Harry was left dangling in suspension, his hands moving out almost instinctively to grab hold of what he needed.

But Riddle stepped to the side as his fingers dipped into his pocket as he withdrew a wand and fixed it straight onto Harry.

"What are you-"

But Harry's voice froze, his eyes widening. It wasn't just any wand.

Harry took an instinctive step back, his heart racing as hollowness coursed through him. Harry had assumed that Tom had his wand.

"Where did you get that?"

But Riddle didn't answer as his head tilted, eyes cold, lips twitching into a thin smile.

"Riddle-"

But Harry's voice was swallowed up by his own wand as Riddle flicked it suddenly. But that wasn't the worst part. Riddle turned, back to Harry as he slashed Harry's wand down violently.

The shimmering shield grew brighter, and Harry had to cover his eyes, retreating back into a corner as it pressed against his very being. And then the light exploded, shattering just like the mirror, only there was nothing left as it dissipated in a moment. Riddle's smile widened as he gestured towards the door.

"Shall we?"

Harry's blood ran cold.

* * *

Harry was brimming with a mixture of terror and adrenaline as they emerged from a room halfway along the forbidden third floor corridor. Riddle had taken out the aurors guarding Harry with ease. Even their dæmons who were more alert to their surroundings had fallen quickly under his curse.

And now Harry's feet were tracing the same old corridors he'd walked time and time again as the portraits slept peacefully in their frames.

The windows they walked past were dark outside, and Harry held Riddle's diary tightly in his arms, trying to distract himself from the temptation of hundreds of tantalising souls. Even the thought of the night skies and fresh grass, that he hadn't seen or felt in weeks was negligible compared to Harry's awareness of the dæmons stirring deep within the castle walls.

It was intoxicating.

But Riddle kept one firm hand on the base of Harry's neck, guiding him carefully as if knowing that in a moment Harry could snap.

Harry had been sure that Riddle would take him out of the castle, so he was surprised when he was led down to a girls bathroom on the first floor. Harry frowned at the dead end, opening his mouth despite his lost voice.

And then Riddle started hissing, the sound barely a whisper, but totally foreign. Harry spun around, half expecting a snake to appear, but Riddle only took a step back behind Harry as he placed both hands on his shoulder's.

A tap was glowing before them, cast in a brilliant bright white before it started to spin. And then Harry watched amazed, as the stone and ceramic started moving, the sink and pipes disappearing deep into the ground, to leave a huge gaping chasm at Harry's feet.

Harry could hear the sound of running water as he peered over the edge, cold stale air from the pipe rushed up, leaving his eyes watery.

And then Riddle was pushing him forwards, his hand moving into the flat of his back as he prized his diary from Harry's grip. Harry dug his heels in, but he could only glare as the suffocating pillow remained lodged in his throat.

"Behave," Riddle tutted, as he held Harry's wand firm.

Harry snarled, spinning round despite himself, but the darkness remained dormant, just simmering below the surface, sealed by whatever slim connection he had with Riddle.

But it wouldn't last long. Even Riddle was aware of that, and then Harry would have him, would make him regret destroying the mirror.

Riddle pushed him forwards, he didn't even have to use magic, being at least physically four years older there was little Harry could do as he was forced into the pipe.

It was like rushing down an endless, slimy, dark slide with more pipes branching off in other directions, but Harry could do little to focus on them as he plunged deeper under the castle. Perhaps this was a secret way out, maybe Riddle was already set upon leaving. In which case, Harry didn't have very long to work out what to do next. But Harry had little time to dwell on the matter as he plunged into darkness, landing in a wet hard thud.

Riddle was just behind him, and Harry had to scramble out of the way, shaking off the slime that now soaked his clothes. Riddle stood, dusting off his robes as he lifted Harry's wand alight, causing long beams of light to cast shadows on their surroundings.

They were in what must have been a dark tunnel, hundreds of metres below the school. The ground itself was littered with small skeletons and they crunched horribly into dust beneath Harry's feet as Riddle moved forwards.

Riddle seemed to know where he was going as he led Harry through numerous large passageways which were little more than large pipes.

Harry's unease was growing with every step, and they must have walked for a number of minutes before Riddle stopped suddenly, Harry's wand held above their heads.

There was a solid wall ahead on which two entwined serpents were carved, their eyes set with great, glinting emeralds.

Riddle approached, his voice soft and hissing once again.

The serpents sprung to life, parting as the wall cracked open. But the light from the wand barely projected into the new darkness before them, swallowed up by the vastness.

Riddle stepped around him, pure satisfaction as he held his hands out to the void.

"Welcome, Harry, to the Chamber of Secrets."

Riddle flicked Harry's wand, green flames erupting into the distant lanterns that lined the huge chamber, flooding it in an eerie light as it revealed its true enormity. Harry felt his voice return to him.

"The Chamber of Secrets?" But Harry's question trailed off in a murmur of echoes. Pipes pooled into the centre, water streaming down the large limescale covered walls. It looked like no one had been down here for centuries.

But there was something at the end of the chamber, something silhouetted against the flames and the towering stone pillars. Something distinctly human shaped, hand outstretched, barely lit by the green fires.

Harry's chest felt like it would cave in on itself.

"Tom-"

Harry approached so slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in his head. It was everything he had hoped for, but it was so so wrong.

Harry felt nothing. No soul, no completeness. Even the darkness which was so aware, so desperate for a soul failed to identify any life.

And the reason soon became apparent.

Tom was stone.

And yet Harry could remember nothing. Tom's eyes, captured with a terror that Harry could understand, as if he knew that something would rip them so ruthlessly apart.

Harry reached out slowly, as if he thought Tom might disappear before him, but instead his fingers came to rest gently on Tom's outstretched arm. Harry didn't know what to expect, he thought Tom might jump to life, or that their connection would flicker back into some remnants of life.

What Harry didn't anticipate, and it only made his heart ache all the more prominently, was that Tom remained unmoving, frozen in stone.

He was just like the mirror. Empty.

It hurt.

Tears prickled at the edge of Harry's eyes, a hard lump forming in his throat.

If anything it was worse than the mirror, Tom didn't move at all, he was just a cold statue. A shadow of what he should be.

And Riddle in comparison seemed so full of life, his being was more constant, so warm despite his transparent form. It was odd, it left Harry settling for something that was so similar to Tom, yet not his at all.

Then the cold realisation, the true danger that Harry was now in.

Harry's voice was numb, as if his own voice wasn't connected properly to his mouth.

"You did this."

Riddle who had been waiting patiently, didn't need to respond.

"W-what is wrong with him?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Riddle said almost lazily as he settled against a stone pillar. "He's perfectly fine."

Immense relief, as well as a mixture of distress and anger flooded through Harry, as his fingers traced across Tom's stone skin.

"Wake him up," Harry said. His voice was meant to be firm, was meant to make sure that Riddle could not deny him, demand what Harry was owed, but Harry's voice faulted in response, barely a whisper through his own despair.

"Our Lord is not pleased, Harry," Riddle said. "It's a fitting punishment for what he has done."

"Voldemort wants Tom secure, he doesn't want this-" Harry gestured at Tom. "This was you."

Riddle smiled, as he raised his hand to trace his wand across Harry's heart.

"So bold, or maybe foolish, to declare what the Dark Lord desires."

Riddle prowled around him, Harry's wand tapping at his side and Harry was reminded horribly of Tom when Harry had been trapped in the guillotine. That disturbed look, with a horrible sense of power.

Harry drew closer to Tom, but there was no friendly hand in his, no reassurance that Tom would always be there.

"Give him back to me," Harry hissed.

Riddle only laughed as he flicked Harry's wand casually.

"Unfortunately, waking Tom is way beyond my resources."

"Liar," Harry hissed, fists clenched. "Why did you do all of this? I agreed to help you months ago."

"Do you really believe Tom would have let me take you?" Riddle's gaze was intense. "He would have sooner killed me then let me touch you, regardless of whatever agreement we had come to. And we never do like to share our most prized possessions."

Hot anger flared within Harry as he took a unsteady step towards Riddle.

"Prized possession? You abandoned me, you stole Tom and left me to rot!"

And Riddle's response was even worse, as his eyes only narrowed slightly.

"That was unintentional."

"U-unintentional?" Harry gaped. All his torment, all his days being locked away with no relief on his empty soul was nothing but an accident.

"I tried to bond with you then," Riddle said, expression darkening, "I thought I was strong enough to claim you, but you were unstable. I had been reaching out to you for months, both in Malfoy Manor and at Hogwarts. But it was not enough, I underestimated your attachment to Tom and in turn your inability to be separated from him. I assumed that your reaction would be similar to when you originally lost your dæmon, distraught but still capable."

Harry blinked, fleeting nightmares resurfacing, but otherwise he had no recollection.

"I had no other choice," Riddle continued coldly. "I had to retreat into the chamber, I believed you were lost."

"But I survived?" Harry said, a horrible lump forming in his throat.

"You survived," Riddle agreed, eyes gleaming. "And that changed everything. Imagine my surprise, my elation to hear that you not only hadn't transformed, but that Dumbledore was returning you back to the school. I could breathe again. I would not have to settle for another-"

After all of this, all of Riddle's best laid plans and Harry had only been saved by the answers of the Ministry and Dumbledore, that if they had not acted swiftly enough then Riddle would have splintered Harry, destroyed him past anything recognisable, all because of a mistake.

"Why didn't you?" Harry asked, voice tight and shaky. "If you could've connected yourself to anyone, surely it would have been safer than tearing Tom away from me, I could have destroyed you?"

Riddle only looked amused at this.

"I promised our Lord your blood, Harry."

There was something in Riddle's expression that didn't quite add up, and that despite everything Harry was still missing vital information.

"And now," Riddle continued, arms spread wide to the dark depths of the Chamber. "We have all the time in the world to familiarise ourselves."

Harry's body went numb with shock, mind reeling back to what he agreed.

"You can't just keep me here?" Harry said indignantly.

Riddle just smiled, and it wasn't a particularly nice smile as he twirled Harry's wand around.

"Am I not being merciful? I would have thought you wouldn't want to leave Tom's side. Or perhaps he foolishly believes you care for him as much as he does you."

"Don't-"

"You haven't exactly been treating Tom well-"

"You don't know anything-" Harry started, guilt flaring despite himself.

"Did I touch a nerve?" Riddle said, lips curling into a smirk.

Harry crossed his arms glaring at him as he jutted up his chin.

"You'll never find what you're looking for it you keep me trapped down here," Harry said.

Riddle tutted, wand tapping against his leg.

"Have you learnt nothing, Harry? Our Lord will already have guessed my intentions, which only makes our next steps all the more dangerous. Our connection needs to be secure, for if you do not cooperate completely, if you will are not willing to do anything for me, how can I trust you to not betray me?"

"That will never happen," Harry snapped. "You will only throw me aside in the end, I have no reason to help you, specially not now." Harry gestured at Tom.

Riddle's eyes shone with amusement and then suddenly he was there. Straight in front of Harry and hand reaching out to grip Harry's chin, tilting it up so that Harry's neck was horribly exposed.

"Why are you so afraid to give yourself to me?" Riddle trailed his thumb across Harry's cheek. "You already love a piece of the Dark Lords soul, am I really any different?"

It took Harry's breath away, he wanted to look away. He wanted to jerk back, kick Riddle, but he was captivated, as if Riddle was the only thing that could make him whole again.

"I-"

But Harry's voice trailed off as Riddle lent closer, breath tickling Harry's ear.

"Write, Harry," Riddle whispered.

Harry shivered, but he didn't move, pulse thumping as he blinked numbly. The thick blanket of shadows were subsiding, and every anxiety Harry had didn't matter, that Riddle would take care of everything.

The urge to give in was so overwhelming, that the ink would swallow his dim, hollow aloneness.

"Harry," Riddle's voice was so soft, so welcoming as fingers traced across his pulse. "Forget about Tom-"

But the rest of Riddle's words faded into nothing.

Tom.

Ice poured down Harry's spine, melting any delusion that Riddle had fabricated. Only cold stone remained in Harry's soul, in the place where Tom should be, the place that Riddle was trying to take.

Harry would never forget Tom. No amount of ink or stone would stop his deepest desire, the mirror had proved that already.

"No," Harry shouted, and he pushed Riddle back as hard as he could. And with it his head cleared, and the butterflies in his stomach were swallowed into darkness.

Harry was left breathing hard, and the despair, the longing to reconnect and be complete was only growing again with every desperate moment.

Riddle's expression had soured, and his head was tilted as he observed Harry coldly. Harry glared at him, but he didn't move away when Riddle approached, voice deadly.

"You agreed to this, Harry."

Harry lunged towards Riddle snarling, darkness simmering.

"I didn't agree to this, I _never_ agreed to this."

Riddle only sidestepped him, wand fast as Harry hissed, clutching his burning hand.

"My brother did try to warn you there would be consequences you hadn't thought of," Riddle said.

"I won't do it," Harry spat.

Riddle tisked, before raising his wand and directing it at Tom. There was a loud bang as dust and stone exploded out from part of Tom's statue, landing in a small pile of rubble.

Harry's stomach churned as he scrambled up to him, fingers tracing over the otherwise smooth stone.

A thin hair line crack ran around Tom's wrist.

Harry flinched back, panic onset as if one touch and Tom would crumble.

Riddle stepped up to Tom and lent leisurely on his shoulder. He smiled down at Harry.

"Write, or he'll lose his hand."

Harry glared at him and snatched the quill from Riddle's open palm. The ink dropped from its tip and sunk deep into the page.

All Harry had to do was pretend. If Riddle thought he cared, if he believed that Harry would give anything for him- Tom had tricked Voldemort. Harry would be able to trick Riddle.

"What am I supposed to write then?"

Riddle's grin widened.

"Something personal."

Harry paused, quill suspended just above the diary. This would be harder than he first thought, but still he had to give Riddle something worthwhile.

"Your first trip to the zoo?" Riddle sneered when Harry finished writing and he leveled his wand at Tom again. "You can do better than that."

"What do you want then?" Harry snapped. "I've been writing for days."

"You've been writing the wrong things," Riddle said, eyes simmering.

Pure dread flooded through Harry as his eyes came to lock with Riddle's terrifying smile. Harry didn't want to do this, but he knew exactly what Riddle wanted. He'd known it from the start. It the one thing he hadn't given away.

And it was painfully familiar.

Tom had put Harry in the guillotine, because it was the only way. Harry closed his eyes, taking one shaky breath, he understood now so completely. Understood why his connection to Riddle had been precarious at best.

Harry would sacrifice the one thing that was most precious. The one thing that Riddle wanted and would settle for no less.

Harry wrote one word.

_Lyra._

Her name sunk into the page and an instant calmness along with a deep shame settled over Harry.

Lyra was his alone, not anything to share. Harry hadn't even shared her with Tom. But something had changed, already he felt grounded, the balance of his soul no longer leaching out for something that wasn't there.

Riddle reacted instantly. Wand dropping as he gazed at Harry intently. Eyes simmering. Riddle didn't speak, instead three words appeared as his transparent form instantly shifted into something more solid.

_Tell me more._

"Is that not enough?" Harry snapped.

Riddle tilted his head, a horribly sharp smile flicking onto his face. It made Harry's stomach churn.

"Give me your soul, Harry."

* * *

"Harry Potter can't be missing," Fudge said as he brandished the morning paper in his hand. Two days. It had already been two days since the boy had vanished and Potter's picture had been plastered over every paper.

"We will find Potter and proceed as necessary," Scrimgeour said as Nala skirted around the minister's bulldog, Gracia.

"Proceed as necessary?" Fudge gaped. "The boy won't survive, you know that. He was already falling apart, he must have turned by now."

"We would know if that had happened, his guards dæmons were left relatively unharmed," Scrimgeour said gruffly as he peered don't shrewdly at the Minister. "And the boy has already proved he is resilient."

"That means nothing," Fudge said as he paced back and forth, although he halted suddenly as the door slammed open causing Gracia to dart behind Fudge's leg. Amabel, Kingley's Lynx entered, eyes sharp with large padded feet coming to an abrupt halt.

A moment later, Kingsley appeared in the open doorway, gasping heavily and wand drawn.

"What?" Fudge snapped, eyes bulging at the aurors alarmed state.

Kingsley ignored him, as his dæmon snarled.

"We have a problem at Azkaban," Kingsley said to Scrimgeour.

Fudge's face drained of all colour.

"Potter?"

Kingsley's eyes flicked to the Minister only briefly, before he jerked his head.

"No, sir. Not that."

Nala was alert, bushy tail straight as she arched her back and hissed, sensing whatever alarm Amabel was projecting.

Kingsley took one deep breath.

"Sir," he nodded towards Scrimgeour. "Sirius Black and Mintaka have escaped."

Scrimgeour was out the door before Fudge had time to swear or his dæmon time to bark.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

Harry's feet tore from the ground as his shield withered in a swirl of colour. He went flying backwards, hand outstretched and wand grasped in his hand. Harry had no time to brace himself as he landed hard, his wrist crumpling under his weight as his head cracked against stone.

Pain erupted, flaring outwards as his lips parted in silent agony.

Panicked hands found his shoulders as Harry swayed, sickness rising in his throat as a wand was waved in front of him.

"Stop it," Harry said and he pulled back his hand to shield his squinting eyes.

A strong arm locked around his elbow. Harry was hauled up which caused stars to blink rapidly in his vision.

"Tom stop, I'm fine, honest," Harry mumbled.

Tom was already steering him onto a nearby bench as he scanned Draco's wand over him.

"You're not fine," Tom said. "See, I told you this was a bad idea-."

Tom's voice was drifting and the light from the room was fading, pooling into one large black spot. It was very tempting to shut his eyes, to lean forwards and embrace the warm darkness.

"Harry-"

Icy water splashed across his face and Harry jerked backwards, the light cold and intruding as he spluttered.

"Harry, look at me."

Harry stared blankly, water dripping from his face as Tom's pale face zoomed wildly in and out of focus. Tom cupped one hand tightly around the base of Harry's neck while the other tapped Draco's wand gently on Harry's crown. Harry felt something warm and sticky trickle through his hair.

Whatever Tom had done seemed to be working as the room began to sharpen. Harry found himself staring at an empty Great Hall with its long table and benches pushed to the side.

Bitter disappointment flooded through Harry as he stared at his own wand lying uselessly on the floor. What hope did he have if he couldn't even hold his own against Tom.

"I want to try again," Harry started.

He made to shift off the bench to go and retrieve his wand, but Tom hands were firm, anticipating his movements as he held Harry down.

"That's it," Tom said as he raised the wand. "I'm getting Dumbledore-"

"No-" Harry stumbled forwards, his unbroken hand grasping hold of Tom's shirt. "I'm fine-"

Tom stopped and his eyes hardened.

"You have concussion."

"But Dumbledore will know we were duelling, he'll-" Harry rushed as the room spun slightly.

"Do what?" Tom said. "Put us in detention? Tell the Ministry?"

Harry flinched but thankfully Tom didn't raise his wand again.

Instead he crouched down, reaching tentatively out to pull Harry's hand towards him. Tom's fingers were cool and welcoming as Draco's wand flared into life, light soothing as it wrapped around Harry's wrist.

"Anyway, it's not the Ministry I'm concerned about," Tom said quietly as he stroked his thumb across Harry's bruised hand. Harry's stomach did a horrible sort of somersault.

"You're still worrying about Riddle?" Harry said.

Tom nodded, eyes shutting as anger pulsed.

"I don't like it, the very thought of you with him-"

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"It's only temporary, it's not like it means anything," he said.

Tom's eyes flashed, his nails digging in slightly.

"You said you'd share your soul with him."

"I-" Harry faltered, his cheeks flushing. "Don't say it like that-"

"Why not?" Tom said, and this time his eyes fell downwards, his shoulder's tensing. "It seems you want any soul but me."

Harry stared at Tom, his mouth opening automatically, but he couldn't find the words.

"You know I only did it because there was no other way out," Harry said quietly. "This has nothing to do with us-"

Tom was already pulling away and his disappointment apparent.

"This has everything to do with us," Tom muttered.

"Tom?" Harry started. But Tom had already slammed his lips shut.

Harry stared, his own words useless as Tom's emotions ran wild in distress. He reached out to tug Tom closer.

And Harry's hand enclosed around something very hard. Harry flinched backwards from the shock reverberating through him.

No warmth radiated from Tom's fingers.

"Tom-"

Tom had frozen, his lips parted and his eyes dead as he stared blankly down at Harry. Tom's hand was still outstretched and Harry stumbled onto his feet, vision swaying precariously.

There was no pulse running through Tom's lifeless skin.

"T-Tom-"

Tom didn't move as Harry's fingers enclosed tighter around Tom's unresponsive form.

"Tom, wake up-"

Tears swelled in Harry's eyes as his voice choked. But the emptiness was only growing, the realisation that Tom wasn't coming back, that he was unaware Harry was with standing before him.

And then the blade, silver and deadly, its point sharp and protruding, cutting through Harry's very existence.

Everything was warped, the Great Hall spinning wildly away as Harry was left standing in a horribly familiar room, the Mirror of Erised standing tall and pristine.

Unbroken.

Harry threw himself against it and slammed his palms against the glass.

Completeness, so perfect and natural coursed through Harry. Grounding his being in a moment of pure bliss.

"Tom," Harry breathed.

Only it wasn't Tom. Riddle was smiling with his hand outstretched like Tom's. Lyra lay discarded at his side, empty and faded.

Harry withdrew as if he'd been burned.

Silver flashed and Harry woke, his own screams echoing around the chamber, more amplified and horrific as the reverberated around him.

Harry shuddered and drew his arms around himself as he gulped down sharp breaths. Harry raised his hand automatically to trace across the bump on the back of his head as his thoughts swimming back to summer. It really felt like an age ago when Harry and Tom had been alone in the castle.

Just them. No Riddle, no Voldemort, no Lyra.

Harry moved slowly, his memories a mix of fresh terror and confusion as he tried to make sense of it all.

Tom's petrified body was perfectly still in the shadows, but despite this, Harry couldn't help and reach out and hope beyond anything possible. His hand enclosed around Tom's cold wrist.

Nothing.

Disappointment, so sharp and intense flooded into Harry as his eyes fell to Riddle's diary lying on the floor. Each echoing footstep was a fresh betrayal, the guilt deep and unsettling, but that wasn't enough to stop Harry from falling to his knees to pull the book into his lap.

Harry fumbled with the pages, his hands shaking as he pressed the quill into the parchment. He didn't need to write anything.

Riddle appeared silently, arms wrapping around him tightly, as Harry's body shook with tremors with his breathing heavy and uneven. Riddle hadn't lit the torches, the light pooled around them, just enough so that Harry could see Tom's shadowed statue.

Riddle hummed as he ran his hand through Harry's hair.

Harry sunk into him.

"I told you you hadn't written enough today," Riddle hummed.

Riddle's diary now lay discarded to the side, ink seeping in from where Harry had left the quill tip.

"I didn't feel like it," Harry mumbled.

It was true. Harry felt rotten. His arms and legs were aching, trembling from a lack of energy. It was like Tom was there, but not. Everything was as it should be, yet so horribly wrong.

Riddle seemed to know what he was thinking, for he too found Tom's shadow.

"You are still so helplessly dependent on him even though I can give you everything." Riddle said.

Harry made to turn, but Riddle's grip tightened, his nails digging into Harry's wrists as he held him in place.

"And yet," Riddle continued "My brother is so helplessly dependent on you. He could have had power beyond his dreams and instead he chose you. He settled for someone less worthy."

The light in the chamber was dim, the green light soothing, but Harry had never felt such an intense chill pulse through his heart.

"How did you turn Tom against our Lord?" Riddle asked quietly.

"I-" But Harry didn't even know how to start. Surely Riddle would understand, would know Harry's own desperation for Tom. He'd written about it often enough. How could Riddle not see that it had to be the same the other way around.

Riddle, either wasn't expecting a proper answer or he was lost in his own thoughts as he continued quietly.

"The Dark Lord is everything, and yet Tom, if he had known anything else, would never had wanted you again."

Harry tried to shift away again but Riddle's grip tightened, daring him to move.

"I don't understand it."

Even as Riddle spoke, some level of unease trickled between their connection. And if it hadn't been so apparent, Harry could have thought he'd got it wrong.

"Tom has always known me," Harry replied cautiously. "It's always been me and him together."

And what was stranger was that Riddle seemed oddly satisfied with this answer as his frustration waned.

"Voldemort said I had to die," Harry said, knowing that one wrong word could make Riddle snap. "He told Tom that when he put me in that guillotine. That nothing would change his mind. Tom even said Voldemort would have had his unwavering loyalty, but Voldemort's mind was set from the start."

Now Riddle paused at this, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion as his fingers stilled.

Riddle's emotions, which were usually so violent and jagged, where swirling in a mixture of panic and calm.

Harry didn't dare speak again. Instead he settled for trying to make his presence as mute as possible. It was along time before Riddle broke the silence again.

"Are you sure, Harry?"

Riddle's voice had an odd tone to it, as if he didn't believe him, but wanted to cling to this as if it would save him.

Harry nodded. He understood that now more than ever.

"Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

And this time there was nothing which could hide the genuine spike of Riddle's concern which rippled between them.

* * *

_A few days earlier._

Thick smoke lingered across the platform, billowing out from the scarlet engine which alone sat colourful against the fresh covering of snow.

"Firs'-years, firs' years this way."

Hagrid's voice boomed over the huddles of students and their dæmons, while a group of first years hurried after his long strides. Further up the path, Illaria was herding the last few stragglers up to the Hogwarts Express.

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, neck strained as she teetered back and forth, her hands stuffed deep into her cloak. Beside her, Ron held his hand to his brow, shielding his eyes from the heavy dusting of snow.

A loud whistle sounded as Neville and Cryrilla hurried past them, her form a snow leopard as she left a trail of large imprinted footprints.

Ron nodded in the direction of a group of second year Slytherins who had just arrived.

"Come on," Hermione said, as she pulled her scarf tighter around Ramiron.

They weaved through the last mingling students.

"My father has already arranged for Professor Dorsey Webworth to tutor me," Theodore was saying as his sparrowhawk perched on his shoulder. "Of course Therru prefers the skies around Hogwarts-"

Draco Malfoy was among the group waiting to board the train. Adara was tucked into his collar, her small body shaking as the snow melted into her fur.

And she wasn't the only dæmon to look miserable, Camelai, Crabbe's hyena was shivering, tail tucked between her legs while Blaise had wrapped a Slytherin coloured scarf around his cheetah.

Hermione, Ron and Ramiron hurried up to them as Sephrona bounded up behind.

Twelve pairs of eyes turned to them.

Patamon, Pansy's black swan ruffled his feathers, while Blaise's cheetah crouched down, watching Ramiron hungrily. Olesia grunted, her usual intimidating form failing to portray anything menacing.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but she needed have bothered, for Draco gave them one look before he sighed, his breath fogging up in front of him.

"I'll catch up in a minute."

"We'll save you a seat, Draco," Pansy said as Adara looked longingly back at the warm carriages.

They moved past the last few lingering students, winter boots kicking up the remaining slush and snow.

Draco turned to them and made a single jerk of his head.

Hermione's expression fell and tears swelled in her already puffy eyes, her mouth parted and her words barely carryed across the emptying platform.

"N-nothing?"

"You're lying," Ron snapped and Sephronia jumped forwards, skidding on the ice slightly as her teeth bared. "No one else is capable-"

"Are you forgetting what the Ministry tried to do?" Draco interrupted as he crossed his arms. Adara who had her nose buried in Draco's scarf pulled her head up to hiss at Sephronia. "It's just a little too convenient that Harry couldn't remember anything, don't you think?"

Hermione's mouth fell open, her eyes widening.

"But that's-they couldn't-"

Draco shrugged but he didn't look very pleased about it.

"It's a neat way of getting rid of Tom. All they have to do now is just sit back and wait until Harry's real dæmon returns."

"That's stupid," Ron muttered as Sephronia growled in agreement.

"Well if it's not the Ministry or the Dark Lord, who else is it going to be?" Draco said.

Draco had a horribly good point as Ron and Hermione exchanged glances.

"My father has been owling me daily asking if I've heard of seen anything, so I don't think the Dark Lord knows what happened to them."

"Now isn't that convenient," Ron retorted.

"Would you two just stop it," Hermione said. "There has to be a way that Harry survived. The prophet are reporting Harry as missing, not demented."

"The Ministry would get lynched if they said Harry had turned," Draco said and his expression darkened. "I mean, he could be in Azkaban already for all we know."

Hermione flinched, Ramiron jolting on her shoulder, but she was determined as she raised her voice.

"But-" Hermione said. "Harry might still be okay-"

"He has no soul, Hermione," Ron said glumly as Sephronia tucked her tail between her leg. "I don't see how he has any chance."

Hermione wiped a fresh tear away as Ramiron pulled out his chilled nose to peer at Sephronia and Adara.

"Well if you two both want to give up-" she said stiffly.

"Hermione, I don't want to give up," Ron said. "But Harry wasn't right. Sephronia could feel it and I know Ramiron could too-"

Draco glanced over his shoulder as Adara made an odd squeaking noise. Hagrid was heading towards them, Illaria guiding the last remaining students and dæmons on board.

"I just know that if it were me, I'd rather be dead," Draco said quietly.

There was a horrible silence at this, and neither Ron or Hermione could deny their own fears as their dæmons clung to them.

Draco sighed and the mist swirled in front of his face.

"Nothing will change Harry's fate now, and until him and Tom are found, unharmed or otherwise," here Draco paused as he hopped onto the carriage, his glove scraping the ice that coated the doorway. "My guess is that Hogwarts will remain closed."

Ron and Hermione were left standing dejectedly in the cold with both their dæmons shivered.

The snow was falling thicker now, casting the empty platform in a dim light.

Hagrid walked up to them.

"Come on, onto the train with yeh," Hagrid sniffed, a large tear was frozen onto his beard.

"Hagrid, does Dumbledore think they'll find Harry or Tom?" Hermione whispered as another large tear threatened to blink from Hagrid's eyes.

"If anyone is going to find them, it'll be Dumbledore-" Hagrid said.

Illaria growled suddenly as she bared her teeth.

Ramiron shot up in an instant, suddenly so terrifyingly alert while Sephronia scooted behind Ron's leg. Hagrid didn't seem to notice as Ron and Hermione took an alarming step backwards from the snarling dæmon.

"And now with Sirius Black on the run-" Hagrid continued.

"Ow-" Ron said, withdrawing his hand from his pocket. "Scabbers!"

Ron's rat squeaked, scrabbling out of Ron's pocket as he landed sprawled in a small pile of snow. Sephronia jumped forwards and caught him by his tail.

"Thanks," Ron said as he scooped down to retrieve the rat, stuffing him back in his pocket.

Whatever had disturbed Illaria seemed to have passed as Hagrid scratched her behind her ears.

"Anyway," Hagrid said. "Yeh best get on the train, there's no point staying 'ere, not anymore."

Sephronia didn't want to hang as she eyed the larger dog warily.

Another whistle sounded.

They jumped on board, stamping the snow off their boots as Hagrid shut the door behind them.

The feeling was starting to return to Hermione's face but she didn't feel any warmer. She wrapped her arms around herself, moving along numbly to find a compartment.

"In here," Sephronia said, nudging a compartment door open. "Everywhere else looks full."

Ginny was sitting by herself with her hand entwined tightly in Galian's mane. She was staring back in the direction of the castle and glanced up when they entered.

"Do you think Hogwarts will stay closed for long?" she said.

It was the question all the students had been asking.

"I'm sure it won't," Hermione said, although it was as much for her own reassurance. "At least your parents can teach you in the mean time-"

"No, I'm not worried about that," Ginny said. She turned her head back to the window. "I think I've forgotten something."

"Well don't tell Mum," Ron said as Sephronia shook her fur, before tucking herself up onto the seat. "She went ballistic when we had to go back for your diary last summer. We almost missed the train."

A smile tugged at Ginny's mouth but she didn't turn back to look at then.

Ramiron poked his head out of Hermione's damp scarf as he contemplated whether the carriage would be warmer then his spot on her neck.

"I'm sure you'll get it back," Ramiron said.

"I don't think I will," Ginny said, Galian neighed as he butted his head against her leg. "But I think that's a good thing."

* * *

Riddle was watching him again.

Harry sat with his legs crossed and his back against Tom's legs. Riddle's diary lay open on Harry's knees as ink seeped deep into the page.

Harry ignored Riddle as he moved the quill slowly, each stroke grounding and carefully placed as Harry attempted another sketch of Lyra.

It wasn't actually that bad, but Harry had no time to savour her as the lines sunk away from him. Harry watched numbly, wishing he'd had her for just a moment more before she faded. And this in itself was terrifying. Harry knew that with every quill stroke Riddle was becoming more constant, that Lyra was fading past anything recognisable.

It was going to make surviving this harder.

Harry wanted to stab the quill into Riddle's heart, but Riddle was irrational even at the best of times and Harry was sure the young Dark Lord wouldn't take kindly to that.

Instead, Harry exhaled sharply and set the diary aside while the quill clattered to the floor.

"What?" Harry said.

Riddle was standing only a few metres away, his head tilted as his eyes drifted down to Harry's left hand. His brow was furrowed and Harry could sense his curiosity brimming.

"What's that?" Riddle nodded.

Harry's fist clenched around the small stone enclosed in his palm.

"Nothing."

Harry made to stuff it into his pocket but Riddle had only flicked Harry's wand, wrenching it towards him. Harry scrambled onto his feet, closing the short gap between them as he swiped at Riddle's hand.

"Give that back," Harry snapped.

But Riddle only took a step back as he inspected it.

"The rune is wrong."

Harry's halted as his face flushed.

Riddle pointed Harry's wand at it. There was a flash as the small stone hovered high in the air, just above Harry's head.

With another flick of Harry's wand, the small stone spun rapidly, small bits of pebble splintering off in multiple directions. It only lasted for a moment and then the stone came to an abrupt halt, falling to be level with Harry's face.

"Take it," Riddle nodded.

Harry snatched it from the air. The stone was hot to the touch as Harry stared at it.

Riddle had traced over the ink Harry had scribed onto the stone, carving the rune smoothly, just like Tom had done for Harry's birthday. But the original had been taken from him weeks ago, along with all of Harry's other possessions when he had been sectioned in St Mungo's.

Harry didn't want it anymore. His fingers uncurled, the stone falling into the dust and limescale that covered the chamber floor.

"Ungrateful," Riddle said. "They don't work by the way."

"Shut up," Harry mumbled. "How do you know anyway?"

But Riddle had that look on his face again.

"Lost dæmons stay lost," Riddle said. "They are nearly impossible to find."

Harry's throat dried as he looked away from the stone.

"Nearly impossible?"

"Well," Riddle smiled, head tilting and Harry's stomach churned as some unplaced emotion flicked between them. "Unless you know where to look."

"Helpful," Harry bit out.

But despite everything, Harry couldn't help but kneel down, scooping it back into his fingers. Lyra had to come back before Riddle took too much, only Harry needed Tom back first. Harry clenched the stone tight in his palm. If Harry wanted to wake Tom, he'd need to find out what Riddle had done first.

"How did you petrify Tom?" Harry asked.

Tom was good at magic, he'd managed to kill the troll in first year with ease, so it seemed alien that Riddle had escaped completely unharmed.

Riddle looked up mouth curling into a knowing look but he answered all the same.

"Have you heard of a Basilisk?"

When Harry didn't reply, Riddle tilted his head back to rest it against a stone pillar, his gaze turned to the darkness of the chambers ceiling.

"A Basilisk is the King of Serpents," he explained. "A fearsome beast which can reach a gigantic size. It also has a murderous stare which causes anyone who gazes at its eye an instant death."

Harry's stomach did a horrible sort of somersault, but Riddle's mouth only twitched in amusement.

"Tom did not see the Basilisk's direct gaze," Riddle said. "You will not remember it, but I ensured he would only catch a glimpse of the Basilisk's reflection which resulted in something else entirely."

Riddle nodded towards Tom's petrified form.

"Wait, you're telling me there is a basilisk roaming around the school?" Harry said. "How is that possible, surely someone would have noticed?"

"Well he doesn't often roam up into the castle," Riddle said. "The only entrance into the school that is sufficient is the entrance we came down and he has long since forgotten how to open it."

Harry stood awkwardly, taking an instinctive step back towards Tom.

"You mean it's down here?"

Riddle nodded and his sickly grin returned.

"I have secured the main chamber but if you hear him, be a good boy and close your eyes. I did ask him not to eat you, but he has always been a little temperamental."

Harry couldn't help but turn his eyes to the far end of the chamber and he almost expected to see a scaly body curling in its depths.

"You've set a Basilisk on people before?"

"When I was at school," Riddle said. "Of course, I had to be very careful, any indication to the Chamber of Secrets would have immediately implicated me."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"Because I spoke to my dæmon solely in parseltongue," Riddle hummed fondly. "And the Chamber, which Salazar Slytherin built himself, was mistakenly believed to hold a monster deep within which his heir alone has control."

"Mistakenly believed?" Harry gaped. "A Basilisk doesn't count as a monster?"

"That's not what I meant," Riddle said as he stretched his arms out in front of him, Harry's wand held in his palm. "The mistake is that people assume the heir has control. I already told you he is fairly temperamental at best."

Harry frowned at this, remembering what Riddle had told him previously.

"So what are you saying? That you didn't mean to kill that Slytherin that night, that the Basilisk was meant to find me and Tom instead?"

Riddle didn't even flinch, and that was frightening enough.

"Oh no, I killed the Slytherin. The Basilisk had no part in that."

"But why, if we were your target?"

Riddle shook his head, spinning Harry's wand absently.

"The crowing of a rooster is fatal to the Basilisk."

The understanding was cruel.

"Her dæmon? You killed her because of her dæmon."

Riddle only examined his nails, and he flicked his eyes up, shoulder's shrugging as his lips curled.

"It was necessary."

If Harry hadn't known better, if he wasn't constantly reminded through their shared bond, then he wouldn't have believed Tom to be apart of the same soul. But Riddle wasn't finished.

"After I had dealt with the rooster, I then had free realm to persuade him to leave the chamber," Riddle clarified. "Fortunately, aside from the lack of your cooperation afterwards, it all went smoothly."

Harry glared at him. All this time, Riddle had been gambling with everything. His actions had been extreme from the start and it gave Harry little reassurance that Voldemort would disapprove of his actions, that Riddle could easily have destroyed a part of his own soul.

But Riddle was twirling Harry's wand around now, his eyes gleaming.

"What's so funny?" Harry snapped.

Riddle smirk split into a grin.

"Why are the symbols of the Hogwarts crest a Badger, Eagle, Lion and a Serpent?" he asked.

Harry shut his mouth, brow furrowing as his mind flicked back to Hogwarts, A History, and what Tom had told him.

"They represent the founders dæmons," Harry said slowly, unsure where this was going.

Riddle's grin widened.

"Very good, Harry."

Harry clenched his fist at the sheer condescending tone, but Riddle only nodded towards the ancient statue of Salazar Slytherin and his enormous serpent dæmon that towered over the chamber.

"Think about it, Harry. Salazar Slytherin was a great wizard, he wouldn't have had a normal dæmon."

Harry stared at the carved stone as sick cold understanding consumed him.

"A basilisk? Slytherin's dæmon was a basilisk? But then you mean...that basilisk is-"

"Yes, Salazar Slytherin is an animgai," Riddle said. "Of course, he is more beast than the great man he once was, after hundreds of years trapped in such a magnificent creatures body, only those animalistic instincts remain."

Harry gaped.

"But that's horrendous, can't he just become a man again?"

"His body would disintegrate," Riddle explained. "Basilisks live for many hundreds of years, wizards do not. In any case, I think he has forgotten he ever was a man."

And then that horrible familiar lump in Harry's throat.

"Then he can never speak to his dæmon again?"

"Which only aids his madness," here Riddle smiled mirthlessly. "And we both know what a lack of a dæmon can do to a person."

"I think I would rather die," Harry said as he looked back to the ancient statue of Salazar Slytherin and his dæmon. "To choose to be separated from your dæmon. I don't understand it."

Riddle tilted his head, a funny expression crossing his face.

"What?" Harry said. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Riddle shrugged, eyes lingering on Tom's petrified form before skirting across back to Harry.

"Salazar Slytherin's steps are no different from your own."

"I didn't choose to be separated from Lyra or Tom," Harry bit out at once.

"Yes, you did," Riddle said.

"I didn't-"

"Your dæmon chose it, which is the same thing," Riddle cut across sharply as he stepped up to Tom. His fingers grazing across Tom's petrified form. "Don't you understand dæmons at all?"

Harry clenched his jaw shut as he glared at Riddle.

"Lyra is you," Riddle continued. "You are one and the same, Lyra's decisions are your decisions."

"Lyra left because she had too," Harry said.

Riddle smiled, and it wasn't a very nice smile.

"No, she didn't. Lyra left because you chose Tom, you wanted to be tied to the Dark Lord in the most intimate way possible. You could have been whole, you could have had your dæmon completely, but you mutilated her, you sent Lyra away, all to remain tied in the Dark Lord's servitude."

Fury bubbled up inside Harry as he stepped forwards, retort on his lips, but Riddle caught him, snatching his arm as he twisting him into a tight hug.

Harry struggled at first but Riddle's comfort was overwhelming positive that Harry relaxed into his embrace, his head falling back against Riddle's chest.

"It's unnatural. To chose another soul over your own, do you really think it is right, that it is normal to have a connection so deep with another?"

It was wrong. Riddle was wrong. But Harry couldn't find his voice, couldn't deny the choices he'd made.

Riddle spun Harry around as he lent down, amusement coursing between them as he pulled up Harry's chin to meet his own. His breath washed over Harry's face.

"You don't have to be ashamed, Harry."

Harry took a deep breath, eyes clenching shut.

"I'm not ashamed-" but even as he said it, his words faltered, the doubt overwhelmingly intrusive as his fingers curled around the front of Riddle's robes.

Everything about Riddle was Tom, the steady hum, the consistency. It was perfect.

Riddle's smile was spreading on his face.

"There is a fine line when it comes to souls. To you, Tom is your everything, the single part of the Dark Lord's soul which is different, which is so _precious_ ," Riddle sneered the word. "And when compared to the Dark Lord, who is disfigured and repulsive, who's mere proximity brings you pain-"

It happened so suddenly, Harry's scar flashed white hot. Harry's hands withdrew from Riddle, shooting up to grab at his scar, but already the pain was dissipating, no more than a phantom.

"You can't even hope to compare the two, only, that's not so true anymore?"

Riddle's look was predatory, his teeth showing in his terrifying smile as he tugged Harry closer.

Harry willed his legs to step back, his arms to punch out and his mouth to scream.

"I-" But Harry couldn't find his voice. Days ago, he would have answered without a doubt, known that Riddle for all he had done deserved to die.

But he didn't want that. Not really. Riddle was everything, just like Tom had been. But he was just like Voldemort, cruel and irrational. Repulsive.

It was all so confusing.

And then there was the fact, the thing that Harry had been trying to deny for days. Riddle was completely solid. His transparent form long since gone.

Harry had pushed Tom away before, at the end of first year, he'd been totally in control. So why was it now, that Harry's legs were trembling, his very being wanting to never let go.

"I bridge the gap," Riddle continued. "I lie somewhere in-between the familiarity of what you know in your heart and what you can never hope to understand."

"Tom is not Voldemort, he's not you-" Harry's voice barely echoed around the chamber, but this time the same words failed to sound as certain as they had before.

Riddle laughed, but his eyes were cold as he moved to drum his fingers across the top of his diary. Harry's shivered as a rush of pure warmth washed over him.

"You're lying to yourself," Riddle said. "Tom will even look like me in a few years."

Harry's stomach jolted at this as he scanned his eyes over Riddle's handsome face, his so familiar smile.

"But why haven't you aged?" Harry asked as he glanced across at Tom. "If Voldemort created you when he was sixteen surely you should be much older now?"

Riddle hummed.

"I have been bound to a diary for the past fifty years, bound with no real substance, suspended from any form of reality. Static, dæmonless, you could say." Again, Riddle had that look in his eye. "I am a prefect representation of the Dark Lord in the exact moment his soul split. I remember _everything_. Does that not make you curious?"

Now that caught Harry's attention.

Harry took a deep breath, his words teetering on the edge of his tongue, knowing that he as good as confirmed everything Riddle had said previously. But he had to know. Surely Tom, he couldn't, he wouldn't turn into something so unhinged.

"When did you become Voldemort?"

Riddle's lips twitched.

"I fashioned the name for myself, known only to those closest to me, when I was at Hogwarts-"

"You know that's not what I meant," Harry interrupted.

"If you're looking for an exact date you're going to be disappointed," Riddle said. "And you're deluded if you think you can prevent Tom from becoming anything different."

But for the first time, Harry's head cleared, his thoughts more grounded.

This was a lie. And Harry was more certain than anything, because already their paths were different. Tom could be cruel, he'd already proved that he was capable of killing, but there was one thing that set him aside from both Riddle and from Voldemort.

Tom didn't remember.

Riddle was for all and purpose, the Dark Lord, at the start. Nothing separated them, Riddle had already become Voldemort at that point.

"You're in denial," Riddle said. "If anything Tom should be more like the Dark Lord than me. He should be the exact replica of the night he was created."

"Stay out of my head," Harry hissed.

But Riddle wasn't listening and Harry's wand remained firmly in his palm.

"Would it really have been so bad? To be attached to a piece of the Dark Lord's soul who did remember. You would have grown with up away from muggles, been taught about the wonders of magic, been treasured above all else but-"

"Tom treasures me-" Harry interjected. "Anyway that's not the point. Tom can never be the same as you-"

"Which is interesting in itself," Riddle mused. "For all intents and purpose, Tom should be, regardless of his creation being unintentional."

Harry stopped, the true horror of Riddle's statement only to apparent.

"Voldemort made you on purpose? Why?"

But Riddle didn't answer, at least not at first. He surveyed Harry with a horrible look, his grin sharp.

"There is far more evil in the world than you can imagine, Harry."

Harry looked away, eyes fixing on Tom's petrified form.

He didn't have to imagine.

* * *

Harry stirred, his head ringing as hands shook him awake.

A blurry Riddle was leaning over him in the darkness.

"You didn't have any nightmares?" Riddle asked.

"Huh?"

Harry blinked as he fumbled for his glasses.

"I guess not," Harry mumbled, he couldn't really remember but the fact that he hadn't woken up screaming was evidence enough. Harry looked down, stomach churning when he realised the diary had been tucked in his arms. He threw it away and instantly regretted it.

Riddle didn't seem to mind, in fact he was brimming with an excitement and nervousness that Harry hadn't known before.

"I've got a surprise for you."

Riddle flicked Harry's wand summoning his diary into his hand.

"You've been feeding me your soul so it's only fair that I gift you a little something in return," Riddle said.

Harry flinched as he shifted to sit up.

"What do you mean?"

Riddle placed his diary into Harry's hands, the pages held open on January 1943. Four words appeared.

_Let me show you._

Harry looked back to Riddle who was waiting expectantly. What could Riddle possibly show Harry. That in itself was enough for Harry to grasp the cover, to hold the diary close as he peered at the small window which was forming in the centre of the page.

It all happened so quickly.

Harry's chest compressed, the air in his lungs exhaling as he was thrown forwards abruptly onto a hard carpeted floor. Harry scrambled up, only to find himself in an all to familiar room, the green tinted filter of the chamber removed.

It was the Hogwarts library and there were dæmons everywhere. Harry stumbled back, nearly knocking into a table as he sought out the missing diary.

It wasn't there.

Harry was left standing awkwardly, barely daring to move. His hunger hadn't been prominent for days, not since Riddle had first appeared solid, but still Harry didn't want to chance it. But no one turned to acknowledged that a twelve year old with no dæmon had suddenly appeared before them.

Harry took an uncertain look around only to stop abruptly.

Riddle was there, he stood with his back to Harry, inspecting a row of textbooks a few shelves away. Riddle didn't turn to acknowledge him though, instead he withdrew his wand, summoning a book from higher up on the shelf. He flicked it open and scanned its pages.

Harry watched, chewing his lip and unsure whether he should call out. Riddle however, seemed to have found what he was looking for as he closed the book, before turning to weave his way in-between the tables and bookcases.

Only, he wasn't alone.

Harry stared, his mouth parting slightly at the sight. It was impossible.

Nagini.

Lord Voldemort's dæmon.

Her green scales glistened and her eyes shone a deep intense yellow as her muscles eased her powerful body across the floor.

Harry's voice caught in his throat.

This was Voldemort or rather Tom Riddle when he was at Hogwarts, fifty years ago. The memory was pristine as if it had only been captured yesterday. It reflected Riddle perfectly and permitted Harry to see what no other could.

Harry took an instinctive step closer, drawn by an urge so painfully familiar as he came to stand only a few meters away from their table.

Riddle and Nagini were hissing, voices soft and completely private as a genuine smile, one Harry had only seen from Tom, flicked onto Riddle's face.

Riddle opened his school bag, setting the book aside as Nagini coiled her way up the table leg.

Despite the apparent ease of everyone else in the library, their dæmon's actions told another story. Two tables down, a small rabbit sat tucked under a table leg, pressed close against the young witch. An older boy who was placing books back on the shelves didn't spare Riddle a glance, but his dæmon, a raven which was perched high a top the bookcases peered down, watching the giant serpent intently.

Even those who moved past Riddle's table did so with ease, despite the nervous twitches and apparent desperation of their dæmons who hurried past.

Riddle was hissing again, voice soft as Nagini coiled against his finger tips, the table creaking beneath her weight.

It was such a uneventful memory but Harry couldn't help but stare, blind to anything else around him.

This was Voldemort's soul, just like Lyra was his, and she was beautiful.

Another Slytherin slipped into the seat across from Riddle. Their puma dæmon prowled around on the floor behind them.

For the first time Riddle turned away from his dæmon.

"Rosier," Riddle nodded.

Nagini had also moved her attention away, her slit eyes narrowing onto the puma.

"Is that Slughorn's essay?" Rosier asked as he pulled out a roll of parchment from his bag.

"No."

Riddle closed the book suddenly, its heavy pages slamming shut.

"Ah, extracurricular," Rosier said, nodding in understanding. "Anything I can assist with?"

Nagini hissed suddenly, her fangs protruding and sharp as her jaw clicked open. Even though it had been clear before her presence dominated the room.

The puma dipped its head low at once, its black eyes averted as Nagini coiled her body.

She was such a contrast from the relaxed, normal student that Riddle was portraying. Riddle hissed to her softly, hand brushing the top of her head, and although she stilled, fangs retreating, her predatory eyes never left the Slytherin's dæmon.

Rosier hadn't said a word. Not that it mattered, for the scene whirled suddenly.

Harry staggered, head spinning as he fell away from the ground. He was torn from the memory, only to be left lying on the flat of his back, staring blankly up at the obscured chamber ceiling.

For a moment Harry didn't move. He couldn't.

This was the missing piece. The one thing that made clear Riddle's distressed, drastic actions, gambling with everything just for that one chance to set things right.

Riddle had even told Harry explicitly. He'd said he was incomplete, that Harry and Riddle both shared the same goal. And Harry hadn't realised it then because Riddle's longing was as deep as his own for Tom and Harry hadn't been able to distinguish between then two.

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck pricked under the fierceness of Riddle's stare.

This was everything.

Riddle was deadly silent as he watched Harry pick himself up. Harry didn't care to dust the grime of the chamber off his clothes.

Harry had been without Lyra for an entire year and the weeks were ticking by as Tom remained absent. Harry could barely comprehend Riddle's grief, his madness that drove his every decision.

Fifty years alone.

At least Salazar Slytherin had the mercy of being lost with his dæmon, connected so completely and without the concerns that he had once been so much more.

Riddle however, was still tied completely to this awareness, his need that he was apart of something, that he had once had his own soul.

"You miss her don't you?" Harry said quietly.

Riddle didn't answer. He didn't need to. There were no words which conveyed the fury, the loss that pulsed between them.

And then there was the realisation, the cruel understanding that Riddle would inflict the same pain on others, that he had torn Harry and Tom apart, just for a chance to regain his own. Harry could understand completely, for he would have done the same, rip another dæmon from another just to take back Tom.

Harry shuddered, maybe he was more like a dementor already.

"What happened to her?"

Riddle looked away, his eyes falling to the feet as his fists clenched, Harry's wand sparking in violent red.

"I don't know. _He_ won't tell me."

And then the anger and uncensored horror, pulsed through Harry so that he gasped and grasped at his scar.

"Voldemort lost Nagini?" Harry spluttered as he pressed his palm tightly to his forehead.

"She is not lost," Riddle spat, eyes glaring, shooting up to meet Harry's own. "She is hidden from me. I was sixteen, sixteen, when I was created," Riddle stressed as he stepped around Harry. "Nagini was all I knew. I was the perfect representation of my soul and yet was never allowed her-"

Everything was slotting so clearly into place. All those disconnected pieces of information now pointing towards the same thing. Even Tom's scribble of Riddle's name in the restricted book from the library, underneath the chapter about Stealing Daemons. Tom had known. He had worked it out weeks ago.

And then the terror, the pure danger that Riddle wanted to put them in, which was only now so painfully obvious.

"You want Nagini?" Harry spluttered. "You want to take her from Voldemort?"

This had been Riddle's intention from the very start. All those months back in Malfoy manor when Harry had bargained for his and Tom's escape.

Again, Riddle didn't need to answer. His urge, the desperation was so clear to Harry now as he nearly staggered from the pain shooting through his scar, the desire that only Nagini mattered.

It was disorientating.

Harry tried to focus onto Tom, to remember what he held dear. But Riddle was so strong and his connection to Harry complete.

"But I still don't understand why you want my help?" Harry spluttered, anything to distinguish Riddle's own want from his own. "As soon as you'd convinced Voldemort to release you from Malfoy Manor you could have gone to look for her? You never needed me?"

A flash of anger pierced between them but Riddle's expression didn't change, instead he stepped closer to Harry, brushing a hand lightly over Harry's face as he tilted his face up to meet his own.

"You turned a piece of the Dark Lord's soul against himself. Now that makes you very special."

Harry swallowed, his lips drying, distracted by Riddle's impulses to slip his hand lower to tighten around Harry's throat.

"But I-"

Riddle tilted his head, almost daring Harry to deny his help, to refuse to do what he had done before.

Harry exhaled, not daring to move as he was held in Riddle's grip.

"You think I can help you get Nagini to choose you over Voldemort?"

"And will you?" Riddle's eyes bored into Harry's.

Harry didn't answer. This was everything Riddle desired hanging by a thread. How could Harry turn Nagini against Voldemort. Only Riddle could do that.

But all the same, this was a way out.

"If I succeed will Tom be cured?" Harry asked.

Riddle tisked.

"That is not my decision. He disobeyed his own soul and that is never a good idea."

"So did you," Harry said. "You were supposed to take me to Voldemort."

Riddle didn't respond to this and Harry was left with a horrible chill coursing through his very depths of his being, even though he known it to be true before.

"You're _still_ going to give me to Voldemort?"

Riddle frowned as if Harry had been foolish to think anything but.

"In the end," Riddle said.

Harry's heart nearly stopped. At the pure dreaded implications of this, for after Voldemort had his blood-

Harry slammed his hands over his ears, turning away but Riddle grabbed his arm tightly, twisting him back.

"I won't help you-I won't-" Harry started.

"You don't have a choice, Harry."

But that was the worst possible outcome. If Tom remained here and Riddle had Nagini and then left Harry, than what else was left to sustain him. Nothing would be left to stop Harry turning, to prevent him from falling to the shadow.

"I can't-I won't-"

Harry's voice died in his throat, terror in his eyes as Riddle knelt down, a small smile on his lips.

"The Dark Lord might be merciful, he may even spare you-even let me keep you." Harry shook his head knowing in his heart it wasn't true.

"The Dark Lord does not know for certain whether Tom can live without you yet," Riddle said as his fingers ran up Harry's arm.

Harry shivered, hating the soothing feeling Riddle brought.

"What if Voldemort doesn't care?"

"Tom is apart of him. Our Lord won't dispose of you, not until he knows his soul can be sustained by another means."

But that's not how Voldemort had acted last year. Harry had to die. Voldemort had been very clear on that.

Harry had to get Tom back, he had to find a way to cure him. But he didn't even know where to start. Surely someone in the school would know, Riddle had said there was nothing wrong with him.

There was only one options left, one way for Harry to even have a hope of regaining Tom.

"You depend on me as much as I do you," Harry said quietly. That was one thing Tom had made very clear to him. The influence he held over any piece of Voldemort's soul was great.

Riddle's eyes narrowed.

"If I don't help you, you'll never find her. Nagini will never be yours."

Riddle was so fast, he didn't need a curse as Harry's forehead erupted, splintering in complete pain as he fell to the floor.

"Don't even think it," Riddle hissed and he grabbed the front of Harry's clothes, hauling him closer as Harry blinked back the onslaught of pain. "You are only here because of me, still alive because of _me_. You swore to help me, Harry. I could have left you to the Dark Lord all those months ago, and you would have _nothing_ -"

"I would still have Tom," Harry spat back. "Voldemort would have taken my blood but he didn't have the guillotine, he couldn't have separated us."

Riddle laughed, his voice high and cold, completely delusional as his teeth showed.

"I have already proved to you there are other ways of tearing a soul away. You will want to help me, each day I see it, I grow stronger because of you-"

"And Lyra grows weaker," Harry said. He'd already fed Riddle too much. How much more than worth the price.

But this worked both ways. For if Harry sunk himself in deeper, gave himself to Riddle completely-

"Alight," Harry said, voice steady despite his rising pulse. "I will help you, I will help you find and take back Nagini."

Riddle was observing Harry carefully now.

"But I will make you choose me," Harry said, voice oddly firm. "In the end you will disobey Voldemort to save me, that I will promise you."

Riddle's cold expression stilled, his hard eyes intense, blind to everything around them. And then a smirk, so small on Riddle's lips that Harry nearly missed it.

Riddle's fingers uncoiled from Harry's neck, nails withdrawing from his raw skin as he slipped his fingers so tenderly under Harry's chin. Harry remained obediently still, heart hammering as their eyes were locked.

"It's when you say things like that, I almost believe you," Riddle whispered, fingers grazing over Harry's cheek.

Harry was sure his heart skipped a beat.

But then there was the slightly more pragmatic problem.

"You said lost dæmons are nearly impossible to find unless you know where to look."

And here Riddle's expression darkened considerably and Harry attempted to take a cautious step back at the pure uncensored rage which was directed towards him. Only Riddle's grip tightened, his nail pinching into Harry's skin as his hand slipped to rest on his collar bone.

Riddle was deadly quiet, voice barely raising above the continuous drips of water running down the chamber walls as he leant forwards to whisper in Harry's ear.

"The last known sighting of Nagini was with the Dark Lord, shortly before the evening of Hallowe'en 1981."

The hairs on the back of Harry's neck prickled.

"I-" Harry wetted his lip, he didn't dare move. "You think Nagini is still alive?"

Riddle's eyes flashed, Harry's wand twitching in his hand.

"For your sake, Harry, you should hope so."


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

Riddle was hissing.

Harry listened as Riddle's unnatural echo filled their surroundings. It was all Harry could do as he waited blind, a single piece of black cloth tied around his eyes.

Whatever response, or lack of, Riddle seemed satisfied enough.

"Take my hand," Riddle instructed.

Harry obeyed as Riddle's slipped his own into Harry's, pulling him forward with a gentle tug.

"Surely if the basilisk appears he's going to eat me anyway?" Harry said as his feet crunched into the bones which littered the floor.

"Slytherin won't kill you," Riddle said, but he had still insisted on the blindfold all the same. Harry kept his hand firmly clamped in Riddle's, tensing at the smallest of sounds. Riddle didn't seem to mind it. It was as if they were simply walking through the corridors of Hogwarts above and occasionally meeting a passage which could potentially have a giant serpent within.

Riddle seemed to stop at random intervals which only aided in Harry's growing uncertainty.

"When you said the basilisk is temperamental-"

"I can't guarantee he'll listen to me," Riddle answered, "No, it's better we avoid him if we can."

And then Riddle was hissing again, only this time there was a rumble, the floor vibrating as something heavy moved in front of them. Harry was met with fresh, cold air on his face, displacing the stale of the tunnel.

Harry took a wary step back.

Riddle squeezed Harry's hand in response before letting go, his fingers teasing through his hair as Harry's blindfold fell away.

They were standing on one of the steep banks which lined the castle, the entrance to the pipe hidden by trees and foliage as the lake stretched out before them. It was snowing and Harry raised his hand, blinking back the bright light. He'd lost track of all time in the Chamber and from the look of it weeks had passed since Riddle had destroyed the mirror and taken him.

Harry took a deep breath relishing the air. But this did little to settle his growing doubt, the uncertainty of not knowing what was ahead, although it wasn't just Harry who seemed anxious to step away from the castle's protections.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry asked.

Riddle who stood a few paces back into the pipe looked up, his gaze shadowed as he twirled Harry's wand absently between his fingers.

"She might not even be there," he said quietly.

"Voldemort met Quirrell in Albania," Harry said, pushing away the enormity of where Riddle wanted to go. "And you said it yourself, it's where Voldemort fled when he lost his body, you know Nagini would have stayed with him."

It was only the smallest of nods that told Harry Riddle had acknowledged him. He was silent for a moment, gazing out into the swirl of snow.

"And if she is there no longer?" Riddle said.

"At least you know where to start," Harry said bitterly, thinking of Lyra. Not to forget, Harry was going in the complete opposite direction of Tom.

But Riddle was still hesitant. It was odd that now, after all of his extreme, manic actions that doubt was setting in.

"Come on," Harry said, raising his own hand to offer it to Riddle again.

There was a twinge of something, and Harry felt the diary flutter against his chest where he had it hidden.

Finally, Riddle stepped forwards, walking past and out into the snow as he ignored Harry's outstretched hand.

"I can see why he chose you," Riddle muttered.

Harry was left standing there, unsure whether it was the chill of the blistery cold weather or the sudden uneasy feeling that was overcoming him.

* * *

Rufus Scrimgeour stood on a small wooden platform in the centre of the auditorium. His dæmon sat proudly at the base of the Fountain of Magical Brethren, her tail flicked back and forth as she watched a number of bird dæmons circle high above the crowd below.

Around the edge of the room, aurors stood between the gilded fireplaces, dressed in their long red robes as witches, wizards and their dæmons waited.

"I would like to thank you all for attending this morning-" Scrimgeour started his voice carrying through the silence.

At the far end of the hall, away from any prying eyes stood Lucius Malfoy, listening carefully as he brushed one hand down the smooth feathers on Chandraki's head.

"Hogwarts will remain closed until further notice-" Scrimgeour continued.

Another wizard sidled up next to Lucius, his jackdaw dæmon perched on his shoulder, her distinctive silvery feathers on the back of her head glistening in every camera flash.

"The boy must be dead," Amycus Carrow said.

Lucius barely glanced at him, while Chandraki blinked her beady peahen eyes at the jackdaw.

"Our Lord believes otherwise," Lucius replied softly.

Amycus only nodded as he raised an eyebrow.

"And the Minister?"

"Will be out of office if he ever gives up on Potter."

Scrimgeour cleared his throat, his tabby now prowling around his feet.

"We can assure the public that the reports regarding our departments priorities are unfounded as we have adequate resources in place for locating both Sirius Black and Harry Potter. However, we would ask that each individual remain vigilant and that they should not approach Black under any circumstance-"

"Interesting that," Amycus mused as his dæmon cawed. "How did Black escape from Azkaban anyway?"

"That's a question our Lord is very interested in," Lucius said, eyes lingering on a witch and her dæmon who hurried past and into a nearby fireplace. "Of course, there is no doubt in the reason for Black's escape."

"Ah," Amycus said. "Scrimgeour's hoping to find Black who will lead them to the boy?"

Lucius Malfoy shook his head before he sneered.

"They have no idea where either Potter or Black are, Hogwarts or otherwise, they've been desperate enough to involve the muggle authorities. Not that the Minister would ever admit to that."

Amycus looked like he had something unpleasant under his nose.

"And our target?"

Lucius cast Amycus a very wary look at that statement and even Chandraki ruffled her feathers.

"Will be taking Potter one place only."

* * *

Harry was standing on a small remote platform somewhere in the Scottish Highlands. It must have been late morning, but the sun was still dim and the clouds hung low around the hills.

Harry pulled his coat tighter around himself, the chill of the wind cutting straight to his bones.

"Just one fire-"

"No."

Harry glared at Riddle as the distant sound of train echoed down the valley.

"I still think we should apparate or use a portkey-"

"No magic. I already told you."

Harry stuffed his hands into his coat.

"Right."

Riddle had been unusually quiet these last few days, he'd been on edge ever since they had left the boundary of the school, and yet despite this Harry had found Riddle's attention on him unwavering.

"So if Nagini was Vold-"

Riddle was so fast as he clamped his hand over Harry's mouth.

"Do you never listen," Riddle snapped. "Never refer to the Dark Lord by his name, not outside of Hogwarts, ever."

Harry yanked Riddle's hand away.

"I'm not calling him Dark Lord," Harry retorted.

"Fine," Riddle said. "Call him Tom."

That earned Riddle a glare.

"That is his name, is my name too," Riddle added lightly.

Harry wrinkled his nose.

"I'm not calling you Tom either."

"Fine."

And then Riddle was silent again with only the sound of the train rumbling across the tracks as it approached.

It was small with two carriages and half a dozen muggles inside. A muggle conductor appeared at the far end of the platform.

Riddle caught Harry's arm, delaying him from boarding. He had that look in his eye again.

"I won't forget this, Harry."

And that desperation, so intoxicating that Harry fumbled. Harry tried to speak, but all he managed to do was sink forwards, Riddle catching him by the shoulders.

Riddle smiled for the briefest of moments, before he reached forwards to pulled Harry's hood up over his head.

"Keep me close," Riddle instructed. "And remember to do exactly as I told you."

Harry nodded mutely. He was almost on the train, one foot still on the platform when he stopped. There was just enough time for him to catch sight of something transparent before a swirl of snow blocked his view.

Harry thought Riddle must have seen it too for he grabbed him by the scruff of his clothes, pushing Harry into the carriage.

"What did you see?"

"I-" Harry spun around, twisting to see past Riddle.

"Harry!" Riddle snapped, shaking Harry abruptly by his shoulders.

"T-That was a dæmon," Harry said, still trying to squint out into the snow. "But it was all wispy, like it was only half there."

Maybe it was the snow, a trick of the light, but Harry had been sure.

"Sit in the corner, next to the window," Riddle instructed, all but hauling Harry into a seat as he pulled out Harry's wand.

"Stay here," Riddle added as the train started to pull away. "I'm going to check the other carriage."

Harry was left alone, sitting numbly as he stared out the gloomy window.

Riddle was back two minutes later.

"There's a family of muggles and an old man with a mangy dog."

Riddle didn't pocket Harry's wand though, instead he sat down on the other seat.

"Why was that dæmon like that?" Harry whispered, just to be sure that a muggle sitting a couple of seats down didn't hear him.

"Are you sure it was wispy?" Riddle asked.

Harry nodded.

"It sounds like you saw a dæmon who has had prolonged exposure to a dementor," Riddle answered.

Harry's stomach lurched as Riddle glanced at him.

"Dementors can continuously feed from dæmons," Riddle continued. "It's not very well understood, but if you leave a dæmon too close to a dementor for long periods of time they start to wither and fade; if the dementor doesn't devour them whole that is."

Harry turned to look back out the train window, unsure if he wanted to see the wispy dæmon again.

"Azkaban?" Harry asked quietly.

Riddle nodded once before he tilted his head, watching Harry intently.

"What animal was it?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "I only caught a glimpse of something, I could hardly see because of the snow. It was definitely a dæmon though."

There was a pause, and at first Harry thought Riddle didn't believe him.

"There is a chance it was a Death Eater," Riddle said at last.

Harry hands gripped his seat as he spun around to look back out the murky window.

"Then Vold-" he stopped as Riddle hissed at him. "Fine, You Know Who, already knows where we are?"

Riddle for what ever reason remained silent and Harry looked back out of the window, but there was no sight of the wispy dæmon again.

* * *

There were Muggles everywhere. The loud buzz of St Pancras was deafening when compared to the silence of the Chamber or the steady clatter of the train.

Harry was sitting on a bench on the lower level, watching as people weaved in and out amongst themselves.

"It's a shame you're not older," Riddle said, watching a couple of muggles stared in Harry's direction. "You draw too much attention."

Harry glanced at Riddle with a frown.

"I thought you were staying in the diary?" Harry said.

"I wanted to check on you," Riddle said as he made to ruffle Harry's hair.

Harry battered him away, which to the surrounding muggles must have look like he was swatting a fly.

"Muggles don't have dæmons, I'm fine," Harry said. "Anyway, I'm far more noticeable when you're sitting next to me. Can't you at least wait until we're on the train?"

But Riddle didn't answer, he was looking back in the direction of the two muggles, who were now talking amongst themselves, one had pulled out a newspaper and was pointing out something to the other.

"What's wrong?"

"People keep looking in your direction," Riddle said.

"People always stare at me," Harry shrugged.

"Witches and Wizards stare at you," Riddle said. "Not muggles."

"You're being paranoid," Harry said. "Anyway, the train will be leaving soon."

Harry reached out, tugging on Riddle's sleeve, hating how his heart rate suddenly started racing painfully fast in his chest.

"Really, I'll be fine."

Riddle's eyes narrowed, seeing through Harry's thin smile. He gripped Harry's chin painfully, tilting his head left and right. Harry didn't respond, as he forced himself to remain perfectly still.

Riddle's mouth curled into a smile, but his eyes were nothing but hostile.

"You did promise, Harry," Riddle warned, a hard edge to his voice.

"I know-" Harry wetted his lips, "I just need a minute."

"If you ever betray me," Riddle said, his horrible smile lingering. "I will ensure the Dark Lord offers you no mercy."

And then Riddle was gone, and Harry was left alone, suddenly very aware that Riddle knew what he was potentially about to do.

This was Harry's one chance, his last opportunity before committing himself completely to Riddle.

Harry sat dithering on the seat, sickness rising. In two minutes he was expected to board the train, and in a few hours or so, he would be a whole country away, where the ministry would struggle to catch up straight away.

But there was still the fact that the Ministry might never give Tom back to him. Harry clenched his eyes shut, he couldn't bare the thought.

He never wanted to return to St Mungo's, with its sterilised room and the endless constant hunger and if the Ministry decided, then Harry was sure that was where he would end up.

However, if Harry stayed with Riddle, he still had a chance, if Harry could convince Riddle not to take him to Voldemort then Riddle could even help him find Lyra. And with Lyra, Harry would be able to flee, he'd be able to go back to Hogwarts and free Tom.

It was the best shot he had.

Harry stood, only to stop abruptly.

A man was standing only a few meters away, watching him. He was poorly dressed, and it looked like he hadn't washed in days. And then Harry saw the dæmon again, she was barely visible, like a flicker of something not quite there, caught in the station lights, standing just behind the man.

Harry couldn't help but stare, the dogs fur was matted and she was thin and wiry, she looked half starved and far more terrifying up close.

How had they been followed, Riddle had been diligent enough.

"Harry-" The man's voice was scratchy, as if he wasn't used to talking.

Harry tensed, reaching to where Riddle's diary was hidden.

In a split second, Harry darted to the right, skirting around another bench only to come face to face with a snarling dæmon.

The man lunged forward, grabbing Harry's shoulder as he yanked him back, his other hand flying to cover Harry's mouth to stifle his protest.

Harry bit down hard, but the man didn't even flinch, as his other hand move to Harry's throat, his grip tightening. Harry scrabbled, kicking outwards, but the man was unrelenting as spots danced in Harry's vision.

Then the man's next sentence caused Harry's world to come to a screaming halt.

"I can find your dæmon-"

Harry froze, snapping back as his lungs screamed for air. The man knowing he had Harry's attention, loosened his hand just enough so Harry could breath.

"L-let go of me," Harry coughed.

And the man did, warily so as his dæmon moved around agitated and impatient.

Harry rubbed his throat as his eyes watered.

"W-Why would you do that?"

"I-"

A hand enclosed on Harry's shoulder.

The man withdrew immediately, as if he'd been burnt, his dæmon flickered once before she growled.

"I-" The man's eyes were wide, his mouth gaping as he stared at Riddle. "I thought-"

The man looked more terrifying then before as his hollowed eyes darted between Harry and Riddle.

"You look older than your picture," he bit out at last.

Harry couldn't help it, the sheer thought was ridiculous.

"He's not Tom," he said indignantly.

The dæmon prowled forward, her presence slipping in and out of focus, so that Harry wasn't quite sure what he was looking at.

"I told you he was an imposter," her voice was just as dry, disorientating almost.

The look on Harry's face must have been confirmation enough as the man's eyes snapped to Riddle.

But Riddle's fingers had already tightened on Harry's shoulder as he tugged Harry behind him.

"Very clever, Black," Riddle said, eyeing up the dæmon with interest. "Does the Ministry know you're an animagis?"

The dog snarled, teeth snapping, but the man ignored her.

"No," Black snapped. "So what are you meant to be then?"

Riddle smirked, as he tilted his head.

"I'm the only thing keeping Harry whole. He stays with me."

"For now," Black growled, eyeing the wand that Riddle had slipped out, but the man seemed set on Harry, for he turned to him again, expression desperate as he braved a step closer. His dæmon did the same, coming to sniff at Harry's clothes.

"Harry-"

"Don't touch him," Riddle hissed, glaring down at the dæmon. "Or are you trying to trigger Potter?"

"Min-" Black started, he looked visibly unsettled as his dæmon retreated as if scolded, Black's hand gripped into her matted fur.

It took a moment, and a squeeze on Harry's shoulders to realise that Riddle was talking about.

"I-"

Black's dæmon was a wisp, igniting no fierce desire that Harry had hungered for. The horror must have shown on Harry's face.

"Although, I guess a withered dæmon is barely desirable," Riddle said. "Even to one who is lacking-"

A scream interrupted Riddle's, there was a commotion behind Black, but Harry could barely see amongst the footfall. A couple of muggle policemen were looking in their direction, a distressed commuter gesturing towards Black.

Black looked unconcerned, but it was his dæmon who suddenly growled, back arching as her sharp teeth became visible. Riddle seemed just as unsettled, for he raised Harry's wand.

But Riddle wasn't looking at the muggles. Instead his attention was pointed in another direction entirely as Harry felt Riddle's desperation flair.

Four men had stepped out from the crowd. They were each dressed in muggle attire, their suits sharp and would have been inconspicuous had it not been for one feature.

They were masked.

Black's dæmon barked, but there were no dæmons for her attention, so instead she was left circling in front of Harry.

"Don't make this difficult, Black," one of the death eaters started. "We'll take the boy and if you come quietly, Mintaka may not be fed to the dementors."

Black's dæmon crouched down, her ears flattening as she whined. Black gritted his teeth, but his face had drained of what little colour it had left.

Behind them, the muggle policemen were heading in their direction, the larger one on his radio.

Riddle lent down, breath catching in Harry's ear.

"Run."

It was the smallest of whispers, but Mintaka's ears perked up. Black must have heard it to for he shifted in front of Harry.

The closest Death Eater laughed, but none of them had drawn their wands. Instead, they all took a step closer, hemming Harry, Riddle, Black and his dæmon against the bench.

"Come here, Potter."

Harry didn't move.

The Death Eaters seemed just as reluctant to use magic as Riddle, and Black seemed to have realised this too.

"That's the thing about the trace," Black said suddenly, his mouth twisting into a lopsided grin. He looked even more delusional when he was smiling. "One single nasty curse and ever auror will be here quicker than a niffler can sniff out gold."

"You'll go straight back to Azkaban, Black," the near of the Death Eaters warned, but Harry could hear the sudden uncertainty in his voice.

Back shrugged and even Mintaka waved her tail once.

"Worth it."

"Do you even have a wand," the black haired Death Eater asked.

"No," Black grinned, as he strolled back and forth in front of Harry. "All I have to do is get one of you to use yours."

Riddle's grip on Harry's shoulder was hurting now, his nails digging in.

"That's not going to happen."

"Are you sure about that?" Black smiled.

Black vanished, his dæmon solidifying as dæmon and man became one. Both the Death Eaters and muggles started confused, as a solid dog appeared, lunging, teeth snarling as he went for one of the Death Eater's necks.

"Now!" Riddle urged.

Harry didn't look back.

He dodged past the muggle police as Harry heard a gurgled scream before a yelp and a glimpse of a bright red curse which lit up the station behind him.

Loud cracks echoed throughout the air, some nearby muggles screamed, but in all the commotion Harry hurtled past people standing on the elevator, knocking bags aside. He was halfway down the upper level when the first spell fired over his head.

Harry launched himself over the ticket barrier, catching the attention of a couple of station attendants. One yelled out, the other breaking chase as Harry pressed on, weaving in and out the passengers who had alighted from a train which had just stopped at the platform.

Another curse narrowly missed Harry's head as he ducked, sheltering behind a couple of information boards.

"Riddle!" Harry hissed, breath catching as his lungs burned.

And Riddle was there, pulling Harry close, his wand flicking as he twisted on the spot.

Nothing happened.

Riddle tried again, the anger flaring between them as he cursed.

"There's-" Harry gasped, "There's no way out?"

Riddle didn't respond, his forehead pressed against Harry's, his eyes shut momentarily as the diary pulsed against Harry's chest.

"Riddle-"

"Move," Riddle snapped, his wand striking upwards.

Only Harry couldn't, as a tremendous boom shattered the boards he was behind sending glass and wooden debris raining down on Riddle's shield as muggles fled.

Harry spun around, catching sight of the path behind him.

Aurors were littered throughout the station, curses exchanging with at least a dozen Death Eaters. There was no sign of Black or his dæmon and what few muggles remained had scattered, sheltering in shop fronts as they watched on in confused horror.

Riddle jerked him back around, pulling Harry's shirt by the collar.

"Keep running," Riddle hissed as he fired a curse towards the nearest auror. "Try to blend in with the muggles. Just get to somewhere I can apparate."

The underground would be suicide and Harry knew there was no hope in making it across the road to Kings Cross and platform 9 ¾.

"But-"

"Harry!" Riddle hissed and he shoved Harry back towards the Death Eaters, aurors and panicked crowds. "Do as I tell you, I'm the only one who can help-"

That wasn't true. If Black could find Lyra-

A stray curse exploded overhead.

There was just enough time for Harry to flatten himself to the ground as an intense heat rolled above, setting alight the overhead screens. One fell, scattering flaming debris, forcing Harry to roll to the side as he plummeted, landing hard onto the empty tracks. Harry scrambled up, shoulder aching as his knees scraping across the rails. His fingers scratched at the brick wall in an attempt to pull himself back up.

A jack rabbit appeared above Harry. Harry froze as the dæmon hopped aside to reveal a familiar auror. Harry reached out. He was just about to grab hold of Tonks' outstretched hand when Riddle reappeared.

His curse was fierce, but Tonks was just as quick, her own wand twisting as a shield erupted in front of her but Riddle was already targeting her dæmon causing her to forfeit her position.

But that had left Harry horribly in the open, stranded on the empty tracks as a couple of Death Eaters appeared on either side of him.

Riddle flicked his wand, steps carving out of the platform wall as he hoisted Harry up, just as a purple curse came flying towards Harry's head.

A dæmon leapt forwards, appearing out of no where, and Harry watched in horror as the lynx collapsed with a piercing whine, allowing Harry to clamber back up onto the burning platform.

It was chaos.

The aurors and Death Eaters were duelling at speeds that Harry could barely keep track of and his options of escape were disappearing thick and fast.

Harry flung himself into the emptying train, dashing between confused and panicked muggles. One man called out, but Harry wasn't listening, he only wanted to get as far away from the Death Eater's as possible.

He hurtled into another carriage, just as Harry caught a fleeting blurred glimpse of a mask. Only Riddle was ready, cutting them down, just as Harry slammed into a muggle.

Only, the man looked barely winded, and his face wasn't terrified like the others. Instead his expression split into something very unpleasant, his grin crooked as his nails dug into Harry's arm.

Riddle jabbed Harry's wand forwards, but the Death Eater was ready, shoving Harry in front causing Riddle to deflect his curse upwards.

The light grazed Harry's shoulder, and he hissed, clothes scorching as his skin ruptured. But it was enough to allow the Death Eater to press his fingers onto the black skull on his arm.

He twisted on the spot.

"NO-" Harry yelled, but his feet were ripped from the ground, his stomach lurching as the station rushed out of view.

Harry landed hard, his knees buckling as the Death Eater held him tightly in his grip.

They were no longer in St Pancras, in fact, they probably weren't even in London.

They were in an old house, wall paper peeling from the wall. It would have reminded Harry of the shrieking shack had it not been for the grandeur of what had clearly once been a splendid room, its large windows now dusted and the portraits had been burnt out and all that remained were large ornate frames.

A few metres away stood Riddle, with two Death Eaters between them, but that didn't matter. Harry still had Riddle's diary, their souls linked so completely.

Harry kicked out, but the Death Eater merely flicked his wand and Harry was left breathless, his lungs compressing as he clutched at his throat for air. Only Harry could still breath, just the sensation was gone, and all that remained was the associated panic of drowning, the fact that each breath felt useless, and there was nothing he could do.

"Careful," a familiar voice warned.

The Death Eater lifted his wand, his curse releasing as he hauled Harry's limp body up from the floor. Harry staggered as he gulped down hurried fresh breaths of air. Harry turned to see the Death Eater who had offered his reprieve.

Lucius Malfoy had removed his own mask, his wand scanning over Harry. He looked distinctly unimpressed.

"I seem to recall the agreement was alive and unharmed?" Lucius said lightly.

Riddle moved his hand, dismissing the other Death Eater as he placed his cool fingers against Harry's forehead.

Harry melted, head fuzzy as he blinked, he reached out to cling onto Riddle's robes as his vision shifted in and out of view.

"It's fine," Riddle said. "Potter's stable enough."

Only, Harry didn't feel fine. Riddle's pure fury was buzzing through him, like a swarm of bees, each with a deadly sting.

"How long has Black been out of Azkaban?" Riddle said quietly.

"Long enough," Lucius answered. In turn, one of Riddle's hands tightened painfully around Harry's wrist.

"Fortunately, Black's interference didn't cause further repercussions," Lucius continued coolly, "It would have been disastrous if he had managed to get his hands on the boy."

"How fortunate," Riddle's said. He drew Harry's wand causing some of the other Death Eaters to shuffle.

Lucius Malfoy didn't even flinch, he merely eyed the wand with a cool indifference.

"You helped Potter escape my home?" Lucius asked.

Riddle smirked, his eyes so furiously dangerous.

"I hardly have to answer to you," Riddle said.

"No," Lucius conceded, dipping his head. "Not to me."

Harry knew it was coming, but that still couldn't prepare him for the crippling pain which exploded in his scar. And the hissing, so hideous and intrusive, that Harry wanted nothing more than to clamp his hands over his ears and shut out Voldemort's soul.

Quirrell was right there, at the entrance of the room, his turban removed and Voldemor's hideous twisted face on view.

Riddle had the nerve to smirk, his eyes dancing with such daring as he lowered his own head. He hissed something back, before switching back to English.

"Tom is perfectly safe, isn't that right, Harry?" Riddle said.

Not that Harry could have managed a coherent sentence, as he fumbled for Riddle's diary, as if having the pages open would somehow ease the cursed pain.

"Get out."

The command came from Quirrell's mouth, but it was clearly not his own.

"Don't take him too far," Riddle called to a Death Eater as they stooped down to pick Harry up.

"Don't-" Harry mumbled. He wasn't even sure if anyone heard, his head lolling back.

Riddle was watching him, his own eyes unreadable.

"I-" Harry started, if only he could get Riddle to act, to step in and offer Harry some sought of relief.

However, a hiss from Voldemort stole Riddle's gaze and Harry was flooded with such an onslaught of emotions, thick and fast like nothing he had even experienced from Riddle, not since his desperate longing for Nagini was revealed. Riddle and Voldemort seemed to hold each others undivided attention, if only for the briefest of moments before Riddle nodded once.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

Harry traced his fingers against the mirror's rough surface, scrapping away its thick cover of dust. Beneath this, a layer of rust and grime only added to Harry's haunted expression as he was left with a true pang of desperation. The Mirror or Erised, which he had known so intimately was truly an age ago, and instead of Tom's untouchable soul hidden within, Harry was left staring bitterly at his own reflection.

Black hair stuck up like usual and Harry's face was hollow while his shoulder continued to weep, scorched from Riddle's curse.

Harry pressed his palm against the distorted surface, but like Riddle's diary it did not respond, it only remained ignorant as Harry remained alone, locked in a decrepit bedroom while Riddle's diary lay discarded across the floor.

And as the hours past, the silence lingered, the empty pages holding only Harry's frantic scrawls.

Although, despite being ignored, that hadn't stopped the fleeting images of Riddle's emotions leak through, they had been every extreme and Harry had no way of tearing himself away. Harry had thought Riddle would push him out, would separate himself and hold his dilemma private, but for whatever reason the young Dark Lord wanted Harry to feel his conflict.

Harry had lost Tom, had lost Lrya. He knew Riddle ached for Nagini just as much, surely he would not choose to be alone. Riddle would fight to keep Harry.

But with each passing second, Harry wasn't so sure. Voldemort would never gamble on his soul and give him the luxury of remaining free, not when Riddle was determined to steal Nagini.

It all depended on Riddle.

No. Harry slammed his hands to his ears, his body plunging into terror. He would not think on it, but that didn't stop the guilt simmering through Harry, lingering uncomfortably in his throat as he clenched his eyes shut.

Tom and Lyra.

How could Harry abandon them both.

Had Harry really done enough, was he failing them by giving in, specially compared to Riddle who had torn souls apart, had killed, just for a slim chance at Nagini. Would Harry ever be capable of going that far. To find his soul would be to destroy himself. Only Harry's breathing slowed, his eyes peeling open as he remembered.

Black knew how to find lost dæmons.

The man had been frantic, he'd been convinced he could do it, but he was mad, how could he possibly find Lyra when not even the auror's had achieved it. It didn't make any sense.

Still Harry was left clinging onto the thought as he curled up on the large mattress which had been shoved into the corner of the room. It had half a dozen broken springs but it was such a comfort from the bare chamber floor.

Harry stared up at the stained ceiling as his emotions mixed with Riddle's. Harry might have been able to convince himself that he'd done enough, that their souls were linked intimately, but he'd fought the Dark Lord's soul the whole way. Harry's vision was dizzy and every thought was obsessed but there was nothing he could do now, only wait, with no indication of how long he'd been in here. The large bay windows had been covered in wooden boards and no light penetrated into the empty room.

Harry rolled over, staring blankly at where Tom would normally be.

It wasn't the same. And Riddle knew it.

Riddle.

Harry darted up, gasping as his head spun, the onslaught of fear overwhelming, but their bond had never been clearer.

Riddle had made his decision.

It was like Tom's betrayal all over again, yet Harry could not justify any anger. He'd known it from the start. Riddle had only ever intended to use him, to take what he wanted and disregard Harry when he was finished. Harry was nothing to him, had known it to be true from the start, and yet it still hurt.

Harry clenched his fists, if only to stop himself shaking.

Surely there was something, they'd shared their souls, bared their weaknesses.

Riddle had to care.

Harry fell to his knees, barely containing his fears as he pulled the diary into his arms.

And then Riddle was there, he rested one cold hand on Harry's cheek which flooded with warmth and reassurance.

"It won't hurt, I promise."

Harry's mouth ran dry, but he kept his eyes bearing into Riddle's.

"He'll never let you have her," Harry burst out, dropping the diary as his fingers instantly curled into the front of Riddle's robes. "Whatever Voldemort has promised you, he won't-"

Riddle's eyes narrowed, but he didn't need to say anything, instead he pulled Harry close arms wrapping tightly around him.

He couldn't help himself, Harry melted into Riddle, head falling into his shoulder, because it was easy, it was to let all of his fears drift away.

"Come on," Riddle said. "Just stay close to me."

He swung a long black cloak around Harry's shoulder's which caused him to sag under its weight. Riddle summoned his diary from the floor as he slipped his arm under Harry's arm, hauling him up from the floor.

Harry didn't move, he'd rather stay still forever, just like Tom. It was only Riddle's encouragement, the lingering pull of comfort that had Harry moving one foot in front of the other.

The rest of the house was just as rundown, creaking with every step as Riddle led Harry through the once grand manor. An old staircase, where the carpet had patches of damp and mold, led down to an old hall, with large patio doors leading out into the garden.

It was snowing lightly, and Harry watched as his breath swirled amongst the snowflakes which twinkled in the dark. A thick blanket of snow covered the ground and Harry pulled his cloak tighter, although it did little to settle the biting cold.

Up ahead, less than fifty meters from the house, sat a huge cauldron upon a fire. It was crackling loudly, the only sound in the otherwise eerie night and its light illuminating Quirrell who was waiting with a small selection of Death Eaters.

Harry hesitated, but Riddle kept his hand firmly on his shoulder as he pushed him into the centre of the broken circle.

Despite the fire, the snow around its circumference had yet to melt and the air hung with a distinct chill as Harry had the horrid realisation that there was no point in running, he couldn't leave, not without the diary. But it seemed Voldemort didn't want any chances.

Thick iron wound itself around Harry's right ankle. Its short chain was buried deep into the ground as it burned against Harry's skin.

Riddle gave Harry's shoulder a tight squeeze before he came to stand by Quirrell's side, his head dipping into a bow as Voldemort's gruesome eyes watched intently.

The surface of the cauldron was bubbling loudly now and spitting with a pure silver substance which Harry couldn't help but recognise. Unicorn blood.

Dread rushed through Harry as his memories flashed back to less than a year ago to when Tom had placed him in the guillotine. Harry jerked against the chain, panic consuming.

And yet Voldemort's gaze never left Riddle, and for a fleeting moment, Harry thought he had a chance. The Dark Lord had made the mistake of trusting Tom. Only Voldemort's chilling command and the searing pain which pierced through Harry's head told Harry that the Dark Lord had no doubt in his Riddle's loyalties.

"Begin."

Quirrell, whose turban had been discarded, lowered himself into the large cauldron, his robes staining in the thick blood.

Riddle's voice was unwavering as he drew Harry's own wand from his pocket.

"Body of the servant, deliberately spiritless, you shall entwine your master."

Quirrell sunk into the blood, until he was submerged completely, as not even Voldemort's distorted face remained above the surface. Harry could only hope that they had drowned.

Of course, it was not to be, as Riddle paced around the cauldron, leaving imprints in the snow as he withdrew his diary.

For a sick moment, Harry thought Riddle would cast it into the cauldron, but instead Riddle levitated his diary high above the cauldron. His voice remained just as calm and clear as it echoed around their surroundings.

"Piece of the soul, purposely fractured, you will find your dæmon."

Ink began seeping from the diary, dripping heavily into the liquid as something hissed, green and coiling from within.

Nagini.

Harry stared, the giant snake flickering into life, in place of the where the diary had been, but she looked far more than just a memory.

Riddle's face was lit by the flames, his eyes haunted, but he wasn't the only one for Voldemort was just as enthralled as Riddle, Harry could feel it, had never been surer. Had Riddle been wrong, had Voldemort lost Nagini too.

But Riddle had already turned away from his deepest desire, and Harry was forced to tear his attention away from the dæmon.

Harry took a tentative step back, but the chain constricted, leaving him horribly exposed as Riddle knelt down before him. Long fingers reached out to curl around Harry's wrist, Riddle was soothingly warm, but there was no smile behind his cold eyes.

"Hold still," Riddle whispered.

And then Riddle had a knife.

Harry could do nothing to prevent it, he was secured too tightly to the ground, his ankle bruising as he yanked it hopelessly. Behind him the cauldron bubbled all the more fiercely.

Harry didn't dare speak or breathe, instead he could only watch as Riddle ran the knife across his wrist deliberately slow, the blade was cold, and for a fleeting second Harry thought Riddle wouldn't.

Riddle plunged the knife in deep.

Harry screamed as it tore into his skin so effortlessly.

It burned.

Harry's vision swam rapidly into black, before rushing back into the sharp moonlight. Even now, Riddle's lies hurt, but Harry's only choked on his screams, his head ringing as the young Dark Lord pulled him across the frozen ground and closer to the fire. Harry's arm was thrust over the horrendous heat of the cauldron. His skin was burning, rupturing in blisters, but Riddle didn't seem to notice as the flames licked mercilessly at Harry's arm.

Harry's eyes rolled back, but Riddle held him steady as he squeezed Harry's wrist. Blood dripped down his arm, pooling into the cauldron.

Riddle's voice was just as calm, just as cruel and without a single waiver.

"Blood of the fractured, forcibly severed, you will bind your foe."

The cauldron bubbled, hissing and spitting violently. Nothing happened...

Had it gone wrong, had Harry's blood not been enough. Riddle however, did not look concerned, and Voldemort's hiss was only enough to confirm Harry's fears.

_"Hurry!"_

Nagini too, was hissing more frantically, coiling above the cauldron.

And finally Riddle turned to face him, and Harry understood, his heart enclosed in stone as he clutched his burnt and bleeding arm uselessly to his chest.

"Don't-"

Harry's voice broke, his resolve withering. This could not be his fate.

Riddle had to choose him, he had to because he was so similar to Tom. Each ruthless, but so possessive and caring for anything they deemed worthy of being theirs.

Tom defied Voldemort for Harry, so Riddle would too.

The tremor in Riddle's hand was so small, that anyone else would have missed it. But their souls were shared now, interconnected so deeply that Harry only knew Riddle.

Only Riddle wasn't Tom. And Nagini was there, twisting above the cauldron so tantalisingly close. Riddle didn't even look at him, didn't offer one further word as his hand dropped away.

Tears swelled in Harry's eyes.

"Tom-"

It was enough to make Riddle pause and he had the nerve to tense. Only, it was fleeting, Riddle was already set on his decision, he had been from the start.

It was as effortless as flicking a wand. Harry fell to his knees, slipping down into the snow as his being shattered, Riddle's Occulumency locking Harry out of whatever bond they had ever shared.

Riddle stood over him, he alone had the power to stop it, but each second was sentencing Harry to unbearable agony, with no hope of turning back.

Harry couldn't breathe. The feeling was all too familiar, yet worse than any memory.

The shadow erupted as if it had never been suppressed. Darkness lashed out, desperately searching for a soul. The Death Eaters were dæmonless, they were all useless to him. Harry locked onto Nagini, floating above the cauldron, but she was protected, there but hidden out of reach.

And Riddle remained empty, somehow void to anything Harry could detect.

But there was something, a shimmer. Hidden and weak, so small that Harry had never noticed their presence, a dæmon that Harry had never seen before.

An iguana, long and glistening, invisible from everyone but Harry. He could feel their small fragile heart pulsing inside Quirrell, captivated within Voldemort's hold, while his being leeched off of her.

It was a lifeline and the shadow lunged to life enveloping the cauldron in a desperate hunger.

There was a ear splitting crack, just before the cauldron shattered. Embers and hot iron burst outwards, scolding Harry's hands, his face, but that was not enough to stop him advancing.

Harry was blind to anything but the small dæmon, ready and offered for him to take from Quirrell's outstretched arms.

Harry took the dæmon and pressed the writhing creature to his lips. It's body was scaly and rough, it felt so real, so alive, but Harry calmed, he knew that this was right.

The darkness lashed out, enveloping around the dæmon and in one deep breath, Harry absorbed Quirrell's very essence. Harry gasped in his giddiness, he knew only euphoria, completeness and this wasn't like the mirror. This connection was real, was pure bliss.

Harry took another deep, drawing breath. The dæmon went limp in Harry's hands as Quirrell's soul became his, the iguana's light vanishing as she dissipated into nothingness.

It was like he had Lyra again, had Tom, had everything that once made him whole. The long forgotten feeling of before the trial.

For a moment, everything, everyone was quiet, it was almost peaceful around the shattered cauldron with the flames still crackling. The Death Eaters waited in fascination as Harry remained still, on his knees and satisfied from the soul that he had devoured.

Quirrell was before him, his body limp, just like his dæmon, and even Voldemort's usually terrifying eyes were strangely glossy and lifeless. Harry could not bring himself to be horrified, not when everything was perfect, his soul was complete.

Nagini was still hissing and spitting, hovering only inches above the open remnant of the cauldron. Harry reached forwards mesmerised, they were both connected to the Dark Lord, tied together by their souls that Harry felt like he knew the snake intimately.

Nagini lunged, and Harry scrambled back into the snow, barely avoiding her sharp fangs, but he needn't have moved.

Nagini tore herself into the empty shell of Quirrell's body. Only it wasn't empty, it was rupturing, the skin bubbling like the unicorn blood. Quirrell's eye sockets were bursting as Nagini coiled within.

Harry's ears were ringing, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

The Dark Lord was hideous, as sharp movements distorted, the skin contorted leaving nothing of what Quirrell had been.

Voldemort was thin, his robes strained in silver which draped off his skeletal body. His face was just as disfigured, with wide livid scarlet eyes, and a nose that was a couple of slits for nostrils. Nagini was no where in sight, vanished as Voldemort stood tall, his own hands held out before him as he examined his new form.

Riddle stepped forwards, out from the surrounding Death Eaters.

"My Lord," Riddle dipped his head low as he presented Voldemort with his wand.

Voldemort took it, his long spidery fingers curling around it as his expression glowed with triumph before he moved, bare feet pressing into the snow, he offered no acknowledgement to his Death Eaters who had dropped into the snow their heads bowed. Instead, fierce eyes settled on Harry, who remained on his hands and knees, chest rising and falling rapidly.

Voldemort towered over him, a cruel smile twisting on his snake like face.

"Nothing can save you now, Harry Potter."

Harry's head seared with such a sharp pain, but this was nothing to the deep fear rooting in. He tried to speak, but his voice came out raspy, his breath absent of all mist in the freezing night air as he made a horrible drawn out noise.

"You have misguided my soul for too long," Voldemort hissed, his voice so soft that Harry could barely hear. "Although, it should give you some comfort to know that Tom will be forgiven for his foolish choices, so long as he acknowledges his mistakes."

Tom would never. Tom would sooner destroy Voldemort, nothing would stop that now.

"Isn't that right, Riddle?" Voldemort hissed.

Riddle was standing just behind the Dark Lord, but he didn't say anything. Riddle didn't even nod his head, he only watched Harry with such hurtful indifference.

Quirrell's dæmon had been weak, barely there, perhaps it had not triggered what everyone had feared.

But Voldemort's chilling smile was enough to tell Harry otherwise. And in each passing moment Harry knew something was so so wrong, each breath drawing less than the previous.

Harry's burning scar was nothing compared to the sickness rushing through him. Quirrell's iguana had only sustained him for so long. Harry had taken something unforgivable and he wanted more. He needed more.

The darkness had all but dissipated now, but Harry knew that it wasn't right. It was no longer lashing out, instead it was rushing through his being, devouring him from within.

Voldemort watched fascinated, his head tilted just like Riddle used to do, just like Tom. His red slit like eyes were intense, and his lipless mouth curled into something which could only be a smile.

Harry's hands scratched into the frozen ground, his fingers red and raw as the snow practically became hot to his freezing body. His breath was being sucked from him, his being broken as Harry's very existence burned.

Harry tried to reach forwards, his limbs burning as his finger's shook uncontrollably. Riddle had been there, every time, every nightmare.

And finally, Riddle approached, his footsteps crunching in the half melted snow. Harry wished he could shut his eyes, force them closed and embrace pure oblivion, but he could only watch helplessly as Riddle raised Harry's wand.

And then Voldemort's voice, calling shrilly through the pounding in Harry's ears.

"Leave him-"

Only Riddle had already acted, the wand flicking in his hand, but he did not stay Harry's torment. Instead, Harry went tearing away from the ground, but the sensation was nothing compared to his convulsing desperation as his body finally broke.

Harry had no awareness of where Riddle had sent him, only that he landed soundlessly screaming, his back arching, twisting as all warmth shot from his body.

His skin was rotting, flesh dropping from his hands, his arms, while his neck snapped back as coldness, beyond anything comprehensible, ran like ice through his veins.

Something was crawling over his right eye, bubbling in, as the darkness gouged mercilessly inwards. Harry screamed, but no sound came out, his hands wouldn't move, they were snapped to his sides as his face felt like it would rip in half. It was carving over his body, into his eye, holes tearing into his pupil, sending prickling vibrations through his vision.

Harry's head lurched as the darkness settled into his right eye, simmering just beneath the surface. He was going to be sick, his lungs were tight, suffocating as the smallest flutter of darkness was torment.

Each breath was agony as Harry twisted in excruciating pain, he couldn't think straight only remain a slave to his deteriorating body. The shadow was foul and evil and yet it danced across Harry's skin as if it belonged, cutting into his flesh, severing Harry from whatever he had once been.

It took so much effort to cry out, to feel his body crumble as his right eye finally ruptured.

And in that instant Harry calmed, his own panic descending as the world exploded in such mesmerising light. Harry forgot the pain, forgot himself, he was blind to everything but his clearing vision, so sharp and with everything perfectly defined.

Dæmons.

Harry could see them, so bright and enticing, each pulsing with life. Harry grinned elated, dæmons surrounded him in every direction. And there was nothing that would keep them from him, he wanted to devour their beautiful bright light, so dazzling and tempting.

Pure instinct, drove Harry forwards, but he didn't make it very far, his body was still deteriorating. Another light, distorted and just as bright flicked into existence, but this one was cold, empty and unwelcome. Harry lashed back but the light was too strong, so overpowering and with everything Harry despised.

This dæmon was protected.

People were yelling, but they were so dull, so empty compared to their souls, dancing tantalisingly close for Harry to take. Only more dæmons were flicking to that terrible cold light, rippling around like a repulsive echo and Harry could only watch distraught as his prey was snatched from him.

Cords flew out, grasping around Harry's wrists, tethering him as he tried to retreat, but there were dæmons everywhere, all strong and defended as Harry recoiled as they suppressed his deepest desires.

A dæmon approached, but it was not to give Harry what he craved. The tabby was untouchable, and the intrusive white light was nothing Harry could contest as he fell into shadow.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

He couldn't move. His arms were locked to his side and his breathing was tight and compact, as if his lungs had been crushed by some horrendous weight. His eyes were wide strained and dry, and they itched at the influx of light which could not be shut out.

His memories also cut to nothing, leaving him with disorientated thoughts and no clear answer as to why his body wouldn't function. He remained paralysed, staring upwards at a plain white ceiling, with only a sense of urgency that something was horribly wrong.

Someone was speaking but he couldn't make sense of the words. It was like the voice was standing at the end of a very long tunnel making the sound distorted and faded.

He felt different, detached, with an unfamiliar faint growing desire. Something he had never known before, something dark and intrusive which only added to the pure dread in his heart.

Magic flowed around him but it was not his own. It had a warmth which was long forgotten, rushing through his limbs to his fingers and his toes.

He attempted to heave himself up, but his body wasn't ready to coordinate itself. Instead, he stretched out his fingers, but each movement remained crippling as his joints cramped up in protest.

There was only one thing that mattered, one question that burned on his lips more than any other and he forced them apart, his lungs emptying of stale air.

"H-Harry?"

The silence was deafening.

Tom blinked his aching eyes shut, wincing at the intensity of the light as he reopened them. He forced his aching neck sideways.

Two people came into view.

Alastor Moody stood next to a person in a lime green coloured robes. The witch, who must have been a healer, bit her lip and glanced over Tom anxiously.

"You really shouldn't move. The draught takes a short while to restore your body functions."

Tom ignored her as he stared at the auror he didn't much want to see again.

"W-where's Harry?"

The healer had the nerve to look away, sharing a glance with her dæmon, a small dormouse which was sitting tentatively on the end of Tom's bed.

Moody however, only stared at him with such contempt. Tom tried to stifle his panic, but each restricted breath made it impossible to stay calm.

"Where is he?" Tom demanded as he tried to ignore the obviously bare room.

Moody looked more than comfortable staying silent, but the healer nudged him as her dæmon scurried back and forth. Moody rolled his eye as he crossed his arms.

"What do you remember?" he said gruffly.

Tom grasped at his memories, all flashing thick and fast.

Detention. The disembodied voice. Ginny and Galian. The bathroom filled with mirrors. The snake, with those burning yellow eyes. So intense, that it was as if death would take him.

And then nothing, no memory that continued, no memory that bridged the gap of why he had come to be here. Or where Harry had gone.

Tom's confusion was clearly apparent, as he stared blankly. It was as if he'd had a dream that was long forgotten yet the fragments felt like they should still be there.

"You were petrified by a basilisk," Moody grunted. "About six months ago."

Tom blinked.

Petrified. Six months.

But then-

_Harry._

_No, no, no, no, no._

Tom shot up, his body breaking from its stony hold, but Moody was ready. His wand twisting, as an invisible hand seized Tom's shoulder, jerking him back down.

_No, no, no, no._

Tom kicked out, but the pressure was uncompromising, locking him firmly on the bed as his throat closed up. The healers dæmon scurried up their arm, as the pair of them flinched away.

Moody held his wand steady as he hobbled forwards.

_No, no, no._

Moody didn't matter, the basilisk didn't matter. Nothing that had happened in the last six months mattered.

All Tom knew was that he had left Harry alone.

_Alone and without a soul._

Which meant one thing only.

Tom slammed his eyes shut, because his body wouldn't move, his mouth wouldn't scream. There was no release, nothing which could ease the pure terror which coursed through him as he remained imprisoned in his anguish.

Yet the worst part was the twisted connection, already more prominent and growing, creeping in and so disturbingly wrong. It meant Tom could not deny the apparent, the one thing he feared above all else.

_Harry had taken a dæmon._

No words were appropriate, no thoughts safe as Tom's resolve shattered. His mind crumpled as he tried to grasp at hopeless possibilities that all came out with the same result.

He was too late.

And nothing would bring Harry back.

Nothing.

Moody seemed to acknowledge Tom's resignation for his spell released him.

But Tom didn't move. He couldn't.

He could only stare vacantly ahead, hot tears prickling at his vision as he was left with a gaping hole that could never be filled.

"Why did you wake me up?" Tom bit out. "Why couldn't you have just left me?"

He ached for oblivion, to be petrified again where the truth couldn't hurt. Where Tom could pretend for eternity that he still had Harry.

Moody didn't see fit to indulge him in an answer, he didn't even have the nerve to look at Tom. Moody's blue eye was fixed on something behind him, not once spinning in Tom's direction.

The unhinged feeling flickered, a rising sickness taking hold. Only confirming the true horror of what Tom was now connected to, what Moody was transfixed on, hidden away where Tom could not see.

He was glad Moody didn't have his dæmon with him, thankful that the healer had retreated, their dæmon hidden away. It was already difficult to think coherently, to make sense of what was so wrong without any distractions.

And yet Moody's silence lingered, his normal eye unwavering at Tom's unanswered question.

If the inevitable had happened, if Harry was truly lost-

Tom's lips burned with the same question, his heart pounding all the more fiercely as he dared to think the impossible.

It was the only thing that gave Tom the strength to look up, his magic darkening as he dared anyone to hold Harry from him.

"Why did you wake me up?"

There could only be one reason.

Harry had survived.

_"Where is he?" ___

* * *

Hollow eyes stared through impenetrable glass. It spanned an entire walls length, denying Tom everything but the remnants of a broken connection. Tom pressed his palm against the smooth surface, nails scratching against the steady hum of its protections, solid and resistant to any form of magic.

Beyond it, in the centre of the adjacent room, beside a single stone shallow basin, was the only thing that deserved Tom's rabid attention.

Harry. Or rather what was left of him.

There were patches all across his skin, bandages lining his body, hiding the worst of the decaying flesh beneath. The most noticeable dressing was wrapped around Harry's right eye, covering the whole side of his face. Yet Harry remained perfectly still, laying on a bed of restraints as his chest rose and fell in uneven patterns.

An auror stood in each corner, guarding Harry as they guided their dæmons, the white light of their patronus' holding the very darkness at bay.

Tom watched with haunted fury, fingers tapping against his unwavering confinement as flickers of Harry's want, so vibrant and repulsive pulsed between them.

That was the one thing the dæmons could not prevent. Harry's unfiltered desires, sent through their bond and Tom had no reason to shut them out. A little bloodlust towards dæmons, despite how nauseating would not deter him. He wasn't ever going to be separated from Harry again.

A sudden movement jarred Tom's thoughts, his attention stolen from Harry, as a door to Harry's prison melted into existence.

Scrimgeour.

Any rational that Tom had, left him then and there as he snarled, livid, fingers curling into fists as he willed the glass to splinter and pierce the auror in blistering pain. Scrimgeour had no right, not after the failure to protect the one thing most precious.

But Scrimgeour paid no heed to Tom alone in his confinement. Instead the auror approached the stone basin which sat at Harry's side. Tom watched in morbid obsession as Scrimgeour took out a small vile, depositing what could only have been one of Harry's memories back into the basin. Its contents were tainted black as turbulent memories swelled within.

Nala flicked her tail back and forth as large glowing yellow eyes fixed on Tom. She must have sensed it, Tom's aching want to destroy, unnatural and caused by Harry lying only a few meters away.

Scrimgeour raised his wand, and for a moment, Tom thought he was going to take another memory.

"Don't you dare touch him," Tom hissed, eyes flashing as his own repulsion flared.

Scrimgeour didn't lower his wand. Instead he held it steady as he walked up stand before Tom. Nala followed, her tail high in the air.

"Are you ready to give us what we asked for?"

Harry's missing hours.

They were so unimportant, and yet Tom found no desire to part with them.

"You've yet to give me a valid reason for why you need them," Tom said coolly.

"We still don't know how Riddle got into the castle or who he was collaborating with. It's entirely unacceptable considering he killed a student."

"You don't need my memories to work that out," Tom commented dryly. "You know who was out of bed that night, just find the person with the weak dæmon."

Scrimgeour gave him a funny look.

"Everyone's dæmon's have been thoroughly examined and they are all perfectly healthy. It isn't evident that anyone has bled their soul into Riddle."

Tom's eyes flashed, and for the first time since he had woken, a slight smile tugged at his lips. His eyes turned to linger on the basin, holding Harry's memories within.

"How much have you seen?" Tom asked. The aurors had clearly gone routing around, they'd found where Riddle had taken Tom after all.

Scrimgeour's expression darkened considerable at this, and even Nala hissed, her back arching with her claws drawn.

"You should have told us about Lucius Malfoy. We could have done something."

Tom laughed, yet there was no warmth in his eyes.

"We've demonstrated we are willing to cooperate," Scrimgeour said. "It does no good for Potter if you aren't willing to share critical information with us-"

"And you would've done what exactly?" Tom sneered. "Raided Malfoy manor and found Riddle's diary? If I'd have told you Malfoy was a Death Eater-"

"Then Potter may not have been placed back in Hogwarts," Scrimgeour interrupted. "Lucius Malfoy certainly convinced some of the other governor's that Hogwarts was the safest place for Potter. Malfoy helped place him back into Riddle's waiting grasp."

Tom couldn't believe what he was hearing and it was worse because Scrimgeour didn't know the half of it.

"You're blaming me?" Tom's voice was strangely numb.

"I'm saying that your inaction had consequences," Scrimgeour said. "And although you could not foresee what would happen, you contributed in allowing the Dark Lords plans to proceed."

The words washed cruelly into Tom's ears, as he replayed in his own head what he'd been trying to convince himself wasn't true.

Tom had known Riddle was in the castle and yet he'd walked right into the trap. The actions he had done, had been insufficient, because he knew Riddle's real target had been Nagini. That Harry was not his true interest. And although he'd found the book on stealing dæmons, he'd prepped himself encase Riddle tried the same thing with Harry, and still Tom had been one step behind, he'd underestimated Riddle's own want, the lengths he would go to.

And it had cost him everything.

Yet despite this, if Tom had done everything in his capacity, if he'd thrown away his pride and let the Ministry know about Malfoy and Riddle, then Harry would have been safe.

"What do you want then?" Tom said bitterly.

Scrimgeour smiled grimly as he tapped his wand against the glass, he glanced towards the basin.

"Potter's missing hours."

"No."

It wouldn't change anything now.

An odd expression crossed Scrimgeour's face as Nala brushed against his leg. He knew they had reached an impasse, that nothing would change Tom's mind. He nodded once, before he removed his wand and pocketed it.

Tom only glared back, his chin held high, but any defiance soon evaporated in Scrimgeour's next sentence.

"We're waking Potter up today."

For the first time, Tom flinched as any composure he had shattered.

"Harry-" Tom's voice caught in his throat, his palms now held out uselessly in front of him as his desperate gaze flicked back to Harry lying so horribly still. "He's not ready yet."

Scrimgeour cleared his throat, an unpleasant grimace crossing his face.

"The Minister has been explicitly clear. Our priority is to find out how much of Potter is left, if anything-"

Tom could only stare, as he struggled to make a coherent sentence.

"Waking Harry up-"

Would result in one thing only.

"Any advancement of Potter's decay has halted due to your presence alone," Scrimgeour said.

"I know that-" Tom's hissed, his magic flaring up, but he stayed cautiously still. "But Harry can't-"

"Would you leave him like this indefinitely?" Scrimgeour cut across. Nala hissed, her back arched and her tail upright. "Leave Potter in this cruel limbo where he can never advance unless Lyra returns-"

Tom's attention snapped to Harry's memories swirling in the basin. How else could they know.

It was impossible to keep his voice steady, to keep calm as he pressed his hands back against the glass as his fury simmered.

"You know what animal she is."

It wasn't a question.

Scrimgeour didn't even flinch at the accusation, as he nodded.

"You had no right," Tom hissed.

Lyra was Harry's alone.

"Anything Potter shared with Riddle is in the interests of the Ministry," Scrimgeour said.

It was like the ground had swallowed Tom up.

"Harry-"

He wouldn't. Thick jealously coursed through Tom. And even though he knew it was an empty threat, he could remember so clearly Harry's promise. That he'd never share Lyra. Not even with Tom.

Tom could barely hear his own voice.

"What else did Harry share with Riddle?"

Scrimgeour surveyed him carefully, and it was the deliberate silence that Tom couldn't stand.

"He wrote plenty about you," Scrimgeour said at last.

Tom didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

For the first time, not caring that Scrimegour was watching, Tom's gaze fell to the floor, tears slipping out before he could stop them.

How had everything gone so wrong, where the unthinkable had become fact, with Harry damaged past anything recoverable.

It would have been better if the guillotine had separated them, if Lyra had stayed and not tried to protect Tom.

None of this would have had happened.

* * *

Tom's forehead rested against the glass as he watched. His eyes barely wavered, lingering on each and every part of Harry's exposed skin. What the healers had salvaged was little, and black veins streaked out across pale skin, cutting across like angry scars.

Harry hadn't moved once. His breathing remained jagged and his desires just as constant. It would almost have looked peaceful, if it hadn't been for the cold air which clung to Harry's skin like frozen beads, and the small drops of silver which stained Harry's lips.

There was no indication that Harry was anything but soulless, reduced to the worst kind of nature. Cursed and evil.

The door melted into existence. Right on time.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk._

Tom twisted his head against the glass, to stare blankly at the intrusion.

Scrimgeour and Moody.

Tom eyes slipped to the four other aurors in the corners with their patronus' held strong.

"Are you sure you can handle two underage wizards?" Tom asked dully.

Moody drew his wand, his blue eye fixed unwavering on Harry.

"One Dark Lord and a dementor," Moody grunted.

"That is to be seen," Scrimgeour corrected, but he too drew his wand.

The glass faded.

Tom didn't move. If anything he took half a step back, suddenly hyper aware that nothing between him and Harry.

"I've told you," Tom said. "Harry can't wake up yet. He won't know me-"

Tom shut his eyes, he could deny it no longer.

"Harry will devour my soul."

It was worse, saying it out loud. To acknowledge what he'd been trying to ignore for his last few hours, since Scrimgeour had told him their intentions.

"Personally, I'm counting on it," Moody grumbled.

Even Scrimgeour looked unconcerned.

"It's certainly possible. However, this is the only way to establish if Potter is still human and if he isn't, well-" There was a very nasty pause. "Your sentence was agreed by the Wizengamot before. Or had you forgotten?"

For a moment, Tom thought he had misheard.

"It is only because of Potter that you are still allowed to exist, that you were unpetrified," Scrimgeour continued gruffly. "And now under the current circumstances, with the Dark Lord's return, the Minister's patience is wearing thin."

It was like a rush of pure terror, cruel and bitter as Scrimgeour dared suggest the incomprehensible. And yet the words echoed around in Tom's head, as he digested what would be his fate.

How sickeningly neat and tidy. For after the guillotine, Tom was to be destroyed through one means only. Tom didn't care that he didn't have a wand.

"So that's it?" Tom snarled, magic reverberated around him as he lashed out. "Harry gets one chance, after _everything_ you have done to him."

Nala's large yellow eyes were unwavering as Scrimgeour only steadied his wand, eyeing Tom cautiously.

"It is a chance no one else would receive. If Potter is truly demented-"

Scrimgeour's voice was fading as Tom could only feel the wild beating of his own heart, drowning out the word. He wished he could shake his head, to look Scrimgeour in the eye and say undoubtable that Harry would not attack him. Would not want his soul in the worst possible way. But Tom and Harry were connected so perfectly that Tom knew what Harry craved, and nothing, not even the patronus' which guarded him could diminish that desire.

"I...if Harry doesn't devour my soul," Tom blurted out suddenly as red hot fear consumed him. "If any part of Harry has survived this-"

It was a false hope, Harry wasn't coming back. And the cruel realisation of what the Minister wanted to gamble on was unforgivable.

Harry deserved peace and they would steal his only opportunity. His only way out of the inevitable.

Scrimegour nodded sharply, as Nala brushed around his ankles.

"If you can prove to us that Potter is human enough, then the Minister has agreed to talk."

"He didn't see fit to come himself then?" Tom said bitterly.

"The kiss is something most would avoid witnessing," Scrimegour said.

"Not as clean as a guillotine," Moody added with a rather unpleasant grin.

If looks could kill. But Moody looked like he was itching for an excuse, as his blue eye swiveled once in its socket to lock onto Tom. But it was fleeting, before his eye flicked back to the greater threat in the room.

Tom's fierce gaze instead turned to linger on their dæmons, each in turn, whether they were protected or not.

Harry deserved to devour them all.

Tom took a steadying breath, his eyes shutting briefly, lump forming in his throat.

"Now?"

Scrimgeour nodded as he steadied his wand, levelling it at Tom.

"Are you going to be difficult?"

Tom stared at the six aurors, each armed and ready to act without mercy. Tom couldn't speak, but he shook his head slowly.

Everything had been so abrupt, and Tom wished beyond anything that he could just stop, rewind time and lock them both back in their cupboard, together, with no knowledge of the wizarding world. Nothing was worth this, for in moments, both Harry and Tom would be shells of what they had once been.

Scrimegour gestured for the aurors to move away and cross over where the glass had been. Their dæmons lingered, hovering around as patronus' but ready to retreat. Moody's stump clunked loudly, as he gave Tom another nasty grin.

Tom only stared back numbly. He wished he was still angry, for that would be easier, to remember his fury at Voldemort, Riddle, and the Ministry, anything to stop his deepening fear.

He wasn't supposed to be afraid.

Not of Harry.

Tom's heart was pounding as oxygen flooded to his head, making him only hyper aware of what about to happen. He shut his eyes, as he placed one foot in front of the other.

If anyone was worthy of taking his soul, it was Harry.

Each step was harder than the last and for a moment, Tom hoped Harry would never wake, that he would lie undisturbed in sleep forever. Protected from this cruel reality.

And then Harry was there, lying only an arms distance away, like Riddle had taken everything and then tossed his toy aside.

It was worse up close. Mutilated skin wept through bandages, staining patches in red and black, while what little skin remained was sickly white and clammy. The left hand side of Harry's face was untouched, but this only highlighted the contrast of how disfigured and sunken his appearance had become.

Tom thought his lungs would collapse, as his breathing became sharp and unnatural yet, disjointed and slow as he raised his right hand.

It had been easy when they had been locked apart, where Tom only wished to destroy anyone who would withhold Harry from him.

But now, Tom was left hesitant, unsure if Harry would disintegrate with the slightest touch or erupt in passionate fury.

Tom slipped his hand gently into Harry's. Harry practically melted under his touch, his staggered raspy breaths becoming more constant, relaxed almost.

Tom's fingers moved to wind tightly into Harry's shirt as he pressed his head against Harry's own. A flutter, so satisfying and small scratched between them, it was like a desperate breath, saving them from drowning, their souls linked as one. Like it was supposed to be. And for a moment, Tom dared to believe, but then it was gone and all that remained was Harry's twisted instincts.

Tom buried himself closer, cradling Harry close as he tried to remember, tried to burn every moment into his mind. Harry's smile, his touch, his smell, the way he'd tug on Tom's sleeve and run his hand through his hair if he wanted something.

All those moments gone, and so many more wasted. Eternity could have passed and it would have been insufficient. Yet the patronus' were ready, and they would not stay forever.

Tom pulled back, leaving Harry's shirt stained in heavy splotches as his body shook with uncontrollable tremors.

Tom could do this. He had to.

All that mattered was Harry. And nothing would change that now.

The Ministry would not have Harry, not in any form, which offered Tom no other option.

The patronus' slipped away, the spells and enchantments fading as Tom's surroundings plunged into darkness, drawing away all light and happiness. Tom barely noticed, he was already trapped in his nightmare, having lost the one thing he needed more than life itself.

Finger's traced down to rest on Harry's exposed bandaged neck. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

He had to be quick, before the Ministry realised his intentions, before his own resolve would shatter. To save them both from a fate worse than death. And this way, they would always be together. Always.

"Harry-" Tom choked on his own words, his eyes swelling. "I-"

Harry's undamaged eye, bloodshot and haunted snapped open.

Toms' world spun as Harry moved, impossibly fast, as if he'd not been asleep for months.

And then their roles were reversed as Tom lay where Harry had been. With Harry's frozen hand tight around Tom's neck, and Harry's eye darting back and forth unseeing, and yet he was so enthralled, as if Tom was perfection in itself.

One kiss to claim Tom as his own.

Tom shivered, as coldness beyond anything held him still, yet he could not protest or look away. Harry leant forwards, his mouth twisted into a sickly grin as his lips ghosted against Tom's.


	30. Chapter Thirty

Ice crept over Tom's lips and a coldness, so utterly incomprehensible flooded down his throat. His breath was stolen, suspended against Harry's frosted mouth as Tom's vision blinked in dizzying swirls of light.

It was suffocating, and there was nothing Tom could do as his body wilted into Harry's hold. Harry moved deliberately slowly, each movement so horrifyingly agonising as he showed no apparent hurry to tease out Tom's soul.

The kiss deepened, teeth scratching into Tom's lips, bruising them as Harry's took one long rattling breath. Tom could practically taste the decay. He gagged, eyes rolling as his soul tugged sharply, responding to Harry's merciless call.

It could have been a lifetime or a heartbeat, Tom didn't know. Oblivion was less than a breath away.

There was no warning.

Harry pulled back abruptly, breaking their mouths apart. His fingers tightened as his unbandaged left eye dilated slightly.

Tom's throat burned, his cry silent as his body trembled with a fresh burst of life, but he was offered no reprieve against Harry's uncompromising chill. Tom's head lolled forwards, missing the faint recognition which flickered onto Harry's face.

Then a whisper, so dry, yet so clear that there could be no mistake.

* * *

Harry's lips seared with a sharp needle like pain. It blossomed in patches, spreading over his mouth in angry blisters leaving only traces of anything desirable. Harry released his prey with a single clumsy exhale. His unseeing eye wavered, while Harry's other found swollen lips and a sight so achingly familiar that he thought his heart would burst.

It wasn't possible.

Harry choked, his voice coming out in a strangled cry.

"T-Tom?"

Tom stayed perfectly still beneath him, his face stained and expression broken as his chest breathed in and out heavily. There was a long pause, in which Harry received no reply.

"Y-yeah. It's me."

Hot breath washed across Harry's face.

It was intoxicating and so sickeningly wrong.

Harry slammed his hand over his mouth as he jerked backwards, but he didn't make it very far. Thick bonds weaved around bandaged wrists, locking his joints harshly in place. Which left no more than an arms length between him and Tom's tantalisingly close soul.

Harry's resolve wavered. He gulped down a tight raspy breath, desperately trying to focus on his only distraction.

"I...I can't see properly."

And it wasn't due to his lack of glasses or the cold white light of the painfully familiar hospital room. Harry's vision was perfectly clear in his left eye. It was his right that was the problem. Everything was dull and black. His fingers gazed across something foreign.

Burning hands seized Harry's, but Tom was too late as Harry tore the bandage away from his face.

"Don't-" Tom's voice vanished in a sharp intake of air. But that was the least of Harry's worries.

"I still can't see-"

Tom reached out, his body leaning as far back as possible as he placed shaking hands on either side of Harry's shoulders.

He twisted him around.

A solid mirror stretched out across the back wall's entirety. It was an addition since Harry's last instalment in St Mungo's, yet a deliberate replacement of what had once kept Harry whole. This mirror however, showed nothing of his hearts desire.

Harry's mouth fell agape as he blinked back at his disfigured face. Nothing was left to the imagination.

Harry's right eye was dead, and not just the pupil, the whole eye. Black and shrouded in mist. It was surrounded by scorched ashen coloured skin which ran across the right hand side of his face and crept down the side of his neck. His scar was dulled, lined against his forehead like a scabbed splinter.

Harry's left hand side of the face was otherwise normal, his remaining bright green eye stared back in horror. Harry held out his wand hand, inspecting withered fingers. Loose bandages circled all the way up past his wrist, covering the now decaying wound Riddle had given him.

Harry made to pull up his shirt but Tom's arms wrapped around from behind him.

"Don't-" Tom whispered.

But Harry had to see, and there was no point delaying the inevitable. Harry prized Tom's fingers away, as he took a steady rattling breath.

It was worse than he'd imagined.

There was a gaping hole in his chest, oozing in an impossible darkness. It lay directly over where his heart should have been. Harry stared, his ears pounding from an impossible heartbeat as his clear vision rushed to black. His dead veins only made it sickeningly obvious that it wasn't blood that was pumping around his body.

Tom staggered, encompassed in darkness as he slipped down onto the side of the bed. He gripped the edge, his own eyes fluttering shut as he turned deadly pale.

"Tom?"

Harry spun around, sensing Tom's frantic soul now more than ever as his skin burned under Harry's touch.

"A-am I doing that?"

Tom cracked an eye open offering a weak smile but it was free from any warmth.

"Tell me how to stop it," Harry said as he gripped Tom's shirt. "I want it to stop."

Tom shook his head, his words coming out slow and disjointed.

"Dementors glory in decay, they feed off things that are good-"

"This isn't good," Harry said as he gripped Tom's limp body. Tom opened his mouth, his words barely making any sound as his eyes fluttered shut once more.

"Then find something that is-"

Something good. Harry pulled at Tom desperately, his withered hand skirting across Tom's achingly slowing pulse, itching to feel some life, because what was better than having Tom back. It had been his hearts desire and there had been nothing Harry craved more.

Except that wasn't true any more. There was something far more potent that Harry wanted above all else, despite being basically the same thing.

Harry fingers loosened ever so slightly from Tom's shirt as his mouth twitched into a grin despite himself.

"A dæmon," Harry whispered.

He'd never known such wholeness, and it had been so enticing as Quirrell's soul became his. It was such a warm, pleasant feeling that he couldn't help but sink into it. If only he was back with Voldemort, with Riddle, with Harry's knees pressed into the snow as Quirrell presented Harry the most precious gift.

It was enough to calm Harry as he sunk back, attention wavering and seeking one thing only. But the room held nothing of true importance.

Harry attention slipped back to Tom. Tom's face remained determined, but it had clearly been enough. Tom was burning with life again, his eyes wide and alert. But this time Harry didn't care. He had Tom. Like really had him.

"I didn't think they would give you back to me," Harry whispered.

Tom didn't say anything. Instead, he tugged Harry properly close, so that they were tangled up on the small bed, limbs entwined in each other and inseparable. Colour seemed to be returning to Tom's cheeks as and his resolve in turn seemed stronger.

"How did the aurors know where you were?" Harry asked.

Tom looked to the swirling basin which stood at the end of their bed, he took a moment to answer.

"The Ministry extracted your memories, they've seen everything" Tom said slowly.

A shame, so deep flooded into Harry as he turned his head away. He didn't reply, instead he only nodded mutely, unable to admit what he'd shared. His next question hung awkwardly on his lips.

"How did the aurors find me?"

Here Tom's eyes narrowed.

Harry understood as his gaze fell from Tom's gaze.

"Oh-"

"He did this to you," Tom spat, fist curling as his body shook. "Don't you dare think he is in anyway justified, just because he sent you somewhere where the aurors could pick you up-"

"No-" Harry said, his voice strangely flat. "If Riddle alerted the Ministry it was to spite Voldemort only. Riddle never cared for me-"

Tom's anger was cut short as Harry pulled his arms around himself, his own knees drawn up tight.

Why did it hurt so much.

Tom reached tentatively out, but he faltered.

He was on the brink of sinking back into his comatosed state, his own anger barely enough to hold him on the edge of consciousness as he became instantly cold to Harry's touch.

Harry tried to settle, to hang onto any happy thought, but the doubt was crawling at his mind making it impossible to resurface.

Tom's cool finger's wound weakly around Harry's right wrist, and with it came them most intense of feelings that Harry had known only a few times before from both Tom and Riddle.

Harry's mind went blank as he buried himself into Tom's embrace. He didn't care that his own want was compromised, all that mattered was that it was him and Tom. Together.

Only that wasn't completely true.

Harry stiffened, the hair standing up on the back of his neck as he swivelled around. Where the mirror had been previously, there was now a room occupied by two wizards.

It was like flipping a switch.

Harry's lips parted, his pupil widening as his mouth split into a haunted grin. He scrambled off the bed, knocking Tom aside, only for his arms to contort against restraints.

There were two dæmons, each one twinkling in beautiful golden dust. Harry reacted on instinct, breath harrowing as he tried to draw more than air from his surroundings.

Nala hissed as she clung by Scrimgeour's side as the other dæmon remained so dangerously close. A red kite, her feathers ruffled, with her forked tail split. One of her wings had been ripped off. This dæmon would never fly again but that didn't matter, she would still taste the same.

"Harry!"

Tom seized Harry's shoulders, twisting him away from the tantalising gold.

"Harry, look at me-"

Harry lashed out, his hand moving to yank Tom's mouth against his own. But this time Harry was not a slave to his instincts.

Tom's soul was different.

"Don't interfere," Harry snarled.

Tom's eyes hardened, his jaw set defiantly shut, but he didn't back down. Instead he snaked his hand around the back of Harry's neck, locking them together.

"If you're going to devour a soul, take mine," Tom hissed.

Harry mouth parted despite himself, but he didn't draw breath. All the fear was gone from Tom's eyes as his mouth curled into a triumphant smirk.

"You can't do it, can you? You can't devour my soul?"

Harry stilled, relishing the challenge as his own mouth curled to match Tom's own.

"Don't tempt me-"

Harry reached out slowly. His withered hand running over Tom's pale cheek to trace against the corners of Tom's mouth. Tom flinched, clearly not anticipating this tender emotion, but Harry ignored him as his dead eye narrowed.

There was still nothing, not even a flicker of the beautiful glisten of dust. Even the intrusive white light, Harry could understand, but this wrong, there should be no visible difference between souls, and yet there was.

Harry looked past Tom's darkness warily, only to see Nala and Moody's dæmon were still clear to everything else in his otherwise empty surroundings.

And there was something else, a thin loose link, one that Harry had not noticed previously. It was like a chain of particles, bonding Nala straight to Scrimgeour's being. Scrimgeour himself was absent to Harry's broken eye, but he could see where his dæmon was anchored.

The red kite was different, her light contained only within herself, no strand trailed off to connect to Moody, which meant one thing only. Moody could separate himself from his dæmon.

Yet there was no light between Harry and Tom, not so much as a glisten.

Tom curled his fingers around Harry's own which were still pressed against Tom's mouth. Harry lent closer in response, capturing Tom in his hold as his left eye focused on sharp outlines.

In the corner of his vision, the cat slunk away, flicking into its white cowardly protection as her anchor vanished.

Harry fell away as he raised his own hands uselessly. Tom slipped beside him, just as affected as he nearly collapsed then and there.

Harry could feel his influence receding, held against something much more terrible and intrusive. It radiated from Nala in waves of white light, overpowering his very existence.

"No patronus'-" Tom hissed.

For whatever reason, Scrimgeour complied as he lowered his wand, allowing Nala to return to her more enticing form, but it was clear that the two aurors had not been spared from Harry's presence.

Scrimgeour looked sickeningly pale while even Moody's blue eye was leaping at shadows.

Tom scrambled up to hold himself defiantly in front of Harry.

"Get your dæmons out," Tom hissed.

"They should stay," Harry's mouth split into a delirious grin as he peered over Tom's shoulder. "I promise I won't eat them."

It was a twisted lie, and enough to make even the red kite ruffle her feathers.

Scrimgeour however didn't look surprised.

"Potter still desires you."

"He also showed that he can control himself," Tom snapped. "Surely that has to count for something?"

Scrimgeour didn't agree or disagree, instead his focus shifted solely onto Harry.

"Can you hear me, Potter?" Scrimgeour asked.

Harry's left eye moved to Scrimgeour, while his right stayed skimming back and forth between Tom's absent dust and Nala's beautiful sheen. Harry nodded slowly.

Nala ducked down so that her belly rubbed against the floor, her eyes diverted as she tried to make herself as small a target as possible.

"What do you see?" Scrimgeour said.

This time, Harry didn't answer. The dæmons were so perfect, that any attempts to describe them died in his throat.

Moody noticed, for his own wand twitched.

"He can see Itzel," Moody grunted.

"Can he now?" Scrimgeour said softly.

The red kite rustled her feathers, her beady eye not once breaking contact with Harry. She looked very much like she was eyeing his dead eye, as if she could peck it out if she was fast enough. Harry dared her to try.

Tom's voice tight, his eyes squeezing shut ever so briefly.

"You said that if Harry was human-" Tom's voice halted, the fear shooting between them. "You said that the Minister would talk."

Scrimgeour regarded them both.

"I did."

Tom had gone completely rigid, as he remained between Harry and the dæmons.

"Have you seen enough?" Tom's voice held strong despite the terror that he flicked to Harry.

"For now," Scrimgeour nodded, glancing over Harry once more.

Tom's shoulder's sagged, but there was no relief, not that Harry noticed for he was already focused on Nala and Itzel again.

* * *

The room was bathed in a dim light, barely reflecting the simple outline of the few items which occupied it. Tom lay on the single hospital bed, his eyes shut as Harry stood watching from across the other side of the room.

It must have been early, but Harry's eyes were alert as they focused in the darkness. He preferred it, it was relatively peaceful considering he didn't have much need to sleep any more.

Harry pushed off the wall, placing one foot in front of the other as he inched ever closer to the bed. Tom stirred, twisting onto his back, he mumbled something but Harry didn't quite catch it.

Harry came to a stop so that they were only inches apart, he could almost taste Tom's very essence. Harry closed his eyes, breathing softly. To Tom's credit he remained deadly still, the only sign which showed he'd not been in a peaceful sleep.

But Tom remained unbothered as the room grew steadying colder.

"You know you don't affect me when you're happy," Tom mumbled.

Harry lent down so that he was level with Tom's face, his chin resting on the end of Tom's pillow as his darkness danced across Tom's exposed skin.

"How does that make sense?" Harry asked. "You said dementors feed on good things?"

Tom's eyes flicked open, his eyes reflected only slightly in the darkness.

"They do, but they're also countered by happy thoughts. You know when Nala goes white-"

Harry nodded tightly.

"When she's under the patronus charm, it protects her from dementors, it allows her to fight back," Tom said. "I think the same applies to you. You're more human when you're happy."

Harry wrinkled his nose as he drummed his fingers on the edge of the bed.

"That doesn't make any sense, I want dæmons, I'm more like a dementor when they're close. That makes me happy."

Tom sat up and even in the dim light, Harry could see his shoulder's tense as his gaze didn't quite meet Harry's.

"What?" Harry asked as he tilted his head, his withered fingers reaching out to trail across Tom's hand.

"Nothing," Tom said quietly. "It doesn't matter."

It had been five days since they had been reunited and five days where Harry and Tom had managed to stay in close proximity with each other. The healers however had been challenging enough, unlike the aurors, not all of them could summon patronus'.

Harry didn't get a chance to press any further as a loud buzzing started, reverberating around their room as they were suddenly plunged into light.

Tom squinted, hand shadowing his eyes as Harry covered his left.

"It's too early for the healers," Tom said slowly.

"I'm not complaining," Harry said as he stood, eager as always for the presence of dæmons.

Tom placed his back against the far mirrored wall, he waited for Harry to do the same.

Thin metal wires weaved out, wrapping themselves around Harry's wrists only. Tom was spared any restraint as the door appeared on the far side of the room.

It was Dumbledore and more importantly, Fawkes.

The phoenix flew into the room, leaving a path of glistening dust in his wake. Harry sucked in a tight breath, watching in wonder as the bird landed on the end of the bed. Fawkes gave a shrill cry which reverberated against Harry's lingering chill.

Harry pulled at his restraints, ignoring the hot wire which sunk into his flesh.

"Get out," Tom snapped at once, taking a step forwards.

Fawkes cried out once more, seemingly in an attempt to protect Dumbledore. But it wasn't enough, the headmaster was trapped in hollow memories as he took a cautious step further into their prison.

"I said," Tom hissed, eyes flashing as his fists clenching at his sides. "Get out."

Dumbledore held up both hands and bowed his head slightly as Harry was overwhelmed in the Headmaster's lingering guilt.

"It's only natural to be afraid, Tom-"

"What do you know?" Tom snapped, his magic flaring so that the magically radiating light flickered, sending them back into darkness.

Dumbledore waved his wand allowing the cold light to reappear.

"I understand this is difficult," Dumbledore said. "I would have left Fawkes behind if it were possible, but these surroundings are protected, for Harry's sake of course. It would be overwhelming to him if he could sense how many dæmons are in this building."

Harry's attention shot up at this, his mouth curling into an excited grin.

"They're more deamon's here?"

But Dumbledore never had a chance to answer, no sooner had he opened his mouth did the door melt back into existence.

"Where's Dumbledore?" a loud voice demanded.

Fudge stormed into the room, followed closely by Scrimgeour and Moody.

It was fortunate Harry was restrained for he'd never seen so many dæmons together at once. His dead eye burned with the influx of light, darting back and forth between each dæmon in turn. Tom gripped his shoulder. Not that it mattered, Harry could already see them all.

Fudge seemed just as effected as his dæmon curled up at his feet as any composure he had vanished. He stared at Harry, his mouth falling open as his own expression glossed over with a fear so tantalising that Harry could nearly taste his soul.

Gracia nipped Fudge's leg, causing him to curse as his attention landed swiftly back to Dumbledore.

"Who let you in?" Fudge fumed at Dumbledore.

Scrimgeour however only nodded his head curtly.

"I did, sir."

Fudge seemed lost for words for a moment, before he turned back to Dumbledore, jabbing his finger sharply.

"We've already discussed this, Dumbledore. I don't know what you expect to happen?" Fudge seethed. "I will not allow Potter to be free, not now."

Dumbledore smiled all too pleasantly as he clasped his hands together.

"And I am all to happy to remind you again, Cornelius, the Ministry has no authority over who is permitted to attend Hogwarts and as I have been named Harry's legal guardian, I need no additional permission to discharge him from St Mungo's."

"You - you cannot be serious," Fudge gasped, shaking his head as Gracia growled. "You cannot take Potter to Hogwarts. If the magical community got wind of what has happened-"

"As Hogwarts will remain closed for the remainder of the term, then I can see no better place for Harry and Tom to be housed. I have already made the appropriate arrangements," Dumbledore said, his voice rising slightly as Fudge spun his hat in his hands. "Of course, I have no doubt that you will want to confirm yourself that the environment is suitable."

"And when Hogwarts reopens in September?" Fudge spluttered.

"Then I am confident that Harry will be more than capable than cooperating with his fellow students."

Fudge actually dropped his hat, his face twisting into an unpleasant scowl.

"The boy cannot control himself!"

"Not currently, however," Dumbledore smiled. "We have always been accommodating at Hogwarts to those under difficult circumstances-"

Fudge couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Werewolves and half-giants are not the same, Dumbledore," Fudge had actually turned white as he jabbed his finger towards Tom. "And don't even get me started on him. I can hardly allow his freedom now that You Know Who is back. There would be riots."

"You were happy to move Harry back to Hogwarts when he didn't have Tom's support, I see his condition as very much improved," Dumbledore answered. "And let's not forget that Tom has already made it clear where his loyalties lie."

Tom's knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists, but his lips remained firmly tight.

"We made a mistake, Cornelius," Dumbledore continued. "Ever since Lord Voldemort revealed himself we know that Tom is not our true enemy. This is our chance to make things right again."

Fudge sat back bitterly and crossed his arms.

"No, no and no, Albus. I will not allow it. Potter is uncontrollable."

"Uncontrollable? I believe that Tom has already demonstrated that he is just as capable as Riddle at manipulating Harry. And let us not forget, the dementors are also capable of listening to orders. I see no reason why Harry cannot be reasoned with."

Again, Tom's eyes narrowed, his pulse hammering but he didn't let out a single sound.

"Potter can't-" Fudge started again, he looked around at his colleagues, hoping to gain some support.

"Potter is certainly resilient," Scrimgeour said. "I've no doubt that he'll be able to learn how to control his- ah, how should I put it- his new ability."

"With the right training," Moody grunted.

"The boy is demented," Fudge seethed looking like the three other wizards had gone absolutely mad.

"Half demented," Dumbledore corrected with a smile. "And I think that makes the world of difference."

"We'll see what the school governors have to say about this-"

Again Dumbledore just smiled. "Please do, I'm more than confident they'll be accommodating to Harry's condition. They were so before. Now, Cornelius, if you wish to discuss this further I'm more than happy to do so, but right now my priority is to transport Harry safely to Hogwarts."

"I will not allow it. Stop him."

Neither Scrimgeour or Moody raised their wands.

"Dumbledore's right, Minister," Scrimgeour said. "He's perfectly in his right to remove Potter. I've spoken to the healers and they are more than comfortable that Potter's condition has improved exponentially-"

The Minister turned a nasty shade of purple.

"And Riddle-"

"Stays with Potter," Scrimgeour said. "Of course, there are still circumstances to work out, but I certainly believe it is do-able."

"If you really think - then I want Potter guarded constantly-" Fudge just about managed.

"Do you really believe you can spare a number of your aurors now Lord Voldemort has returned?" Dumbledore asked pleasantly.

"You're the one who wants to put lives at risk, Albus."

"Oh no, you misunderstand. I fully support Harry being supervised, I merely think there is a much better candidate, one who would not hesitate to stay by Harry's side always."

Every pair of eyes slipped in one direction only.

Tom's silence was broken in a single word, his mouth parting in disbelief.

"Me?"

Dumbledore lowered his head, surveying Tom carefully.

"I trust you have the dedication to stop Harry if necessary?" Dumbledore said.

Tom only nodded slowly.

"Not possible," Fudge seethed. "Riddle does not have the capability. He can't even summon a patronus."

"Does he need one?" Dumbledore pleasantly.

Scrimgeour paused eyeing Tom up carefully.

"No."

"That's settled then," Dumbledore said brightly, even though from Fudge's expression it was anything but. "Of course, I'm happy to discuss any other concerns you may have in my office at a more appropriate time."

Dumbledore turned to them, drawing his wand suddenly as Fawkes cooed softly.

"I'm sorry, but it's safer if Harry is transported unconscious."

Tom gripped Harry's hand tightly.

"It's okay, I won't let you go."

Harry wasn't ready for the onslaught as three dæmons flicked to white.

* * *

Harry's footsteps echoed down the empty corridor as he retraced the same steps he'd taken months ago. Tom walked slowly ahead of him, his shoulders tense as they approached their destination.

Last summer, despite Harry and Tom spending a month alone in the castle, they would still run into the occasional teacher, or even Hagrid who spent most of his time pottering around the grounds with Ilaria. Now, only Dumbledore was left, and Hogwarts remained deafening quiet. Even the portrait's, who were usually alive with chatter, watched solemnly as they passed.

There wasn't a single dæmon for miles. Harry didn't know if it was peaceful or infuriating. Tom came to a halt outside a girls bathroom. The entrance to the Chamber.

"Is this where-"

Tom nodded, but he didn't step across the barred threshold, instead he teetered on the edge underneath the large stone arch.

"I knew Riddle was in the castle. And yet I still went- I still followed the voice-"

Tom's voice faltered, his gaze unmistakably shifting to land on Harry's ashen skin.

"This should never have happened."

Harry shook his head, staring at the now dismantled sinks and the gaping hole which led into the ground.

"It was Voldemort's plan from the start, the night we fled the manor, Riddle just delayed the inevitable," Harry felt oddly calm to admit that now.

"That doesn't matter," Tom said as he clenched his fists. "I should have done more."

Harry couldn't help but grin at this, causing Tom's resolve to falter.

"How were you supposed to know Riddle had control of a basilisk?" Harry said, prodding Tom in his side. "Go on, try and find a way to blame yourself for that."

Instead of lightening the mood, Tom's expression darkened.

"It's my job to keep you safe."

A trickle of unease spiked between them.  
"No, it's not," Harry said quietly. "It's your job to make sure I don't eat any dæmons."

Tom froze, watching Harry carefully before he stepped closer. He linked their fingers together making sure not to touch the worst of Harry's distorted skin.

"Does it bother you?" Tom asked.

"Would you really stop me," Harry muttered, thinking back to what Dumbledore had said. "If I wanted a dæmon?"

Tom paused momentarily.

"If you did take another dæmon would you become a full dementor?" he asked.

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I feel more normal than I have since Lyra left. Not complete, but I don't feel as weak any more."

Tom squeased his hand gently.

"You were never weak, Harry."

"But I was less," Harry countered. "I was at the mercy of both you and Riddle, without Lyra my own judgement was clouded, I was incapable of my thoughts, my own actions. I haven't been stable since she left, how could I have been. I had lost my soul, Tom."

Harry stared down at his deformed skin, his hands so pale and ashen still held in Tom's own.

"But now, I feel strong. I see how their dæmons flinch away from me, I know that I want them all," a slight smile tugged at Harry's mouth. "I'd forgotten what it was like to be balanced."

"You're still not balanced," Tom said quietly. "Not while you're without Lyra."

Harry nodded slowly, before he tilted his head.

"You know you never answered my question," he prompted. "Would you stop me?"

Tom sighed, letting go of Harry's hands as he lent back into the archway.

"That depends on who it is," Tom relented at last.

"Nala?" Harry tested with a grin.

Tom was silent momentarily before he too broke out in a thin smile.

"Scrimgeour's mine."

"Fawkes then?"

Tom laughed.

"Sure, if you think you can take Dumbledore."

Speaking of Dumbledore, Harry looked back to the dismantled chamber entrance.

"Dumbledore said the basilisk was destroyed," Harry said.

Tom shrugged his shoulders.

"As much of an honour it would have been to have one of the founders himself still within the school, it's not exactly practicable."

"I guess," Harry said a funny expression crossing his face. "I just don't understand how Slytherin ended up like that. Surely, it would be better to die together with his dæmon than to be alone."

Tom tilted his head at odd expression haunting his face.

"People do odd things. Take Ginny for example, she chose to give her soul to Riddle," Tom said.

There was a deliberate pause as Harry shifted uncomfortably under Tom's burning gaze, but Harry didn't take the bait.

"How's Gallian?" Harry asked instead.

Surprisingly, Tom actually smiled.

"Fine apparently, the Minister could detect nothing wrong with him. They don't know it was Ginny who was originally writing to Riddle. I don't think Ginny remembers anything either."

If Harry had a heart, it would have thumped in his chest.

"So Lyra-"

"Should be okay."

Harry sunk back against the opposite wall, his eyes shutting momentarily as he exhaled casting the corridor in a ghostly chill.

"Good-"

However Harry's next words stopped, as his gaze shot instantly upwards.

"Harry?" Tom's nails dug in slightly, his own stance rigid as he braced for the worst.

Harry remained oddly calm as his dead eye fixated on the cat which had suddenly appeared and was now prowling around a floor above them.

"I can see Nala," Harry breathed, a half smile tugging at the side of his mouth.

"Scrimgeour's here?" Tom asked sharply.

Harry nodded, as he automatically started in the direction of the stairs.

Tom dragged his heels behind, but he didn't protest or let go of Harry. Who else would Scrimgeour be here to see.

* * *

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, looking far more comfortable than his guest.

He smiled pleasantly when Harry and Tom entered which certainly wasn't returned as Harry found himself once again withheld from approaching by magic.

At the sight of Harry, Nala extracted her claws as she snarled, back arching as her fur stood on end. Scrimgeour himself gripped the edge of Dumbledore's desk, his face grimacing as Nala protested her discomfort.

"Good you're here," Scrimgeour grunted.

"What do you want?" Tom asked flatly, as his gaze flicked briefly over Harry's new restraints.

Scrimgeour looked briefly annoyed, he straightened his robes as he nodded across to Dumbledore.

"We've had some complications with the reopening of Hogwarts in September," Scrimgeour said. He didn't wait for a response, ignoring the concerned expression on Tom's face as he levelled his own piercing gaze.

"Given the growing threat, the Minister has approved the use of dementors for the schools protections."

"Dementors at Hogwarts?" Tom said sharply, his alarm shooting through Harry. "Because of Voldemort?"

Even Harry tore his gaze away briefly from Nala.

"The Minister is adamant that the dementors are one of the best tools for protecting the castle from harm. Of course, this will allow the aurors to focus our attention on the main priority of actively seeking out Death Eaters and the Dark Lord, but it may impact on any arrangements regarding you, Potter," Scrimgeour explained.

"What's wrong with dementors protecting Hogwarts?" Harry asked Tom. "If they can guard a prison why not protect a school?"

"Dementors are dark creatures, they're Voldemort's natural ally," Tom answered after a short pause. "Their allegiance won't remain with the Ministry. It's a mistake letting them near students."

Harry stared at this, brow knitting together.

"Why?"

Again, Tom seemed hesitant to respond.

"Voldemort would let you have all the souls you want."

Harry stared at this, his own want flaring as he dared to dream.

"All the dæmons I want?" he tested.

Tom didn't meet his eye this time as he nodded, instead he shot Dumbledore a fiercely cold look.

"I'm surprised you agreed to this."

"Unfortunately, the Ministry has insisted it is a necessity," Dumbledore said. The blue twinkle in his eyes had vanished. "However, I will never allow the dementors onto the school grounds under any circumstance. They will remain at a controlled distance."

"I still don't like it," Tom said crossing his arms.

At Harry's confusion, Tom sighed, his shoulder's sagging.

"Lyra won't be able to come back to you. She'd never make it past the dementors."

Harry shifted back slightly against his restraints, unease growing with every icy breath.

Tom however had already turned his attention back to the two wizards.

"There's something else though?" Tom pressed.

Scrimgeour's eyebrow rose.

"The Minister has a request of you."

Tom blinked, he looked genuinely surprised.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat as he restrained his robes.

"He has asked if you would make a public statement condemning the Dark Lord and pledging your support to the Ministry and the Minister himself."

A flash of anger shot between them, so Harry was surprised when Tom smiled, his expression disturbingly false.

"Let me guess, the Minister wants my statement to tie in with the time the Ministry finally decide to lift the press blackout on Voldemort's return?"  
Nala bristled, her tail flicking as she looked away from Harry's fierce gaze.

"These things have to be done carefully," Scrimgeour explained. "It is a very delicate situation after all, if we haven't thought through any repercussions-"

"Like when you stuck us in the guillotine," Tom said.

Scrimgeour did not speak for a moment, but his expression hardened instantly.

"I don't think you realise how precarious your situation is, the wizarding community will no longer support your bond, not now. A half dementor, in a school with their children. It won't matter who you are. No, it's in your best interests to cooperate."

"In the Ministry's best interests," Tom corrected, he looked from Dumbledore to Scrimgeour with deliberate calmness.

"What is your answer?" Scrimgeour asked.

Harry was the only one apparent of Tom's rage, it was difficult to keep his expression straight.

"I'll think about it," Tom said lightly. "Is that all?"

Scrimgeour paused, unsure whether he should accept Tom's answer. However, he grunted all the same, finally nodding his head towards an item lying on Dumbledore's desk.

And then Harry realised the real reason for Tom's apparent compliance.

"I've come to give you this," Scrimgeour said.

A wand.

Tom stepped forwards, trepidation shooting between them. He took it eagerly, balancing it carefully in his palm as he tested its weight. It was clearly satisfactory for Harry felt his trickle of genuine delight. Tom was clearly itching to try it out, but he only pocketed it.

"Do not misuse it, we can easily take it away," Scrimgeour said.

"You mean don't use it on anyone but Harry?" Tom said coolly.

Here Scrimgeour actually nodded his expression equally cold.

"Let's put it this way, Potter has one chance. If he attacks a student, even once, then you will both be removed from the school indefinitely."

Tom's expression was hard, his eyes cold as he only nodded once.

Harry looked expectantly at Scrimgeour.

"Not yet, Potter. You're dangerous enough without a wand."

Dangerous. The word sounded oddly satisfying in Harry's head as he watched Nala cower behind Scrimgeour.

Scrimgeour stroked his dæmon once, but this did little to settle her as he cleared his throat and spoke directly to Tom.

"However, I will say this, you know of Sirius Black?"

Tom nodded.

"Black's target is Potter. We have no doubt that he will try to get past the dementors and into Hogwarts. If Black manages to get close, deal with him appropriately until the aurors arrive."

"Appropriately?" Tom frowned.

"Black only wishes harm to Potter," Scrimgeour said. "Do not give him the opportunity."

The underlying message of which Scrimgeour was hinting.

"You want me to-" Tom started.

Scrimgeour shook his head as Nala swatted her tail.

"Off the record, but the Minister is prepared to look the other way in this situation only."

Harry tore his gaze away from Nala, memories flashing back to the station with Black and his wispy dæmon.

"Who is he really?" Harry asked.

There was a pause, at which Scrimgeour cleared his throat.

"He's a Death Eater," Scrimgeour said. "He's rumoured to be the Dark Lords right hand man."

What little hope Harry had vanished. Of course it was ridiculous to think that this stranger could find Lyra.

* * *

Harry sat crossed legged on one of the squishy chairs in the empty Gryffindor common room. He turned his palm upwards, inspecting one of the many fresh bandages that had just been applied.

"You're not meant to touch it," Tom scolded as Harry picked at the frayed edges.

Harry shrugged as Tom flicked his new wand. It lit up in a trail of green sparks before he turned it downwards, cutting the air like a crack as the fire exploded in hissing sparks.

Tom's next curse split a portrait in two causing its occupants to flee screaming.

Harry stared at Tom's wand. It made his stomach churn to think Riddle still had his.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I don't understand," Tom said, his voice oddly cold, as he rolled the wand between his tips of his fingers. "Dumbledore's actions don't make any sense. You're practically a dementor and everyone's happy to look the other way. I want to know why."

"Being the boy who lived has to count for something," Harry suggested.

Tom shot him a look at this.

"There's more to it then that. There has to be. Fudge is right, you should be locked up and I should be disposed of. No one would blink an eye, worse things have happened during war."

At Tom's blunt statement, he looked up, noticing when Harry dropped his bandaged hands into his lap.

"It bothers you?"

Harry shook his head, his own thoughts spiralling.

"That's what Voldemort wants," Harry said quietly. "He's always wanted me dead."

Tom stilled at this, his expression clouded.

"True, there's a possibility it's linked to why the Ministry are so desperate to hang onto what's left of you."

Harry didn't have anything else to add to this as he fumbled back with his bandages. None of his damaged skin had even started to heal, and the worst parts the healers had just insisted he kept covered. They'd attempted to put one over his right eye which Harry had just point blank refused.

Tom's eyes flashed as his own gaze settled over Harry's ashened skin. He sat down on the sofa beside Harry, pulling Harry's bandaged hand into his own to retie the section that Harry had tugged loose.

Harry just sat mutely, watching as Tom took far longer than necessary to tie the bandaged knot back up again. When he finished, Tom didn't let go, instead he ran his own hand across Harry's as he took a tentative breath.

"What made you stop?"

Tom's voice came out rushed as he stumbled over his words, his body tensing despite himself.

Harry bit his lip, not quite meeting Tom's gaze. He made to move away, but Tom tightened his hold.

"Harry," he warned.

"It doesn't matter really," Harry said as he fidgeted under Tom's stare. Even now, Harry could practically taste Tom's soul, reverberating out in waves from every breath. Harry ran his tongue over his dry lips, his eyes shutting momentarily as his instincts screamed to lean in, to test if Tom really was untouchable.

Tom responded abruptly, as he knelt forwards on the sofa, coming to stop right in front of Harry as his expression sent chills of temptation down Harry's spine.

He didn't need to say anything, Tom was determined and he deserved an answer, his want was mixed in with Harry's own emotions.

Harry's shoulder's sagged, his dead eye scanning for anything to disprove his own conclusions.

"You tasted funny," Harry said softly, eyes flicking briefly up to Tom's.

Tom was staring at him, his mouth slightly ajar as he struggled to find a response.

"I tasted funny?" Tom blinked, sitting back slightly as he tried to process this information.

Harry fumbled with his bandaged hands as he looked back down. He couldn't ignore Tom's emptiness any longer.

"You know, like burnt toast, only not like burnt toast-just wrong," his own voice sounded strangely distant.

"So let me get this straight," Tom's grip had lessoned now as he shuddered, the true terror of such a simple realisation. "The only reason you didn't take my soul is because I taste like burnt toast?"

"Not burnt toast though," Harry muttered, reddening on the good side of his face.

Tom pulled his hands into his to hold him still.

"I really don't believe you sometimes."

Harry flushed, but Tom's next question caught him off guard.

"What did Quirrell's dæmon taste like?" Tom's expression was steeled, his shoulder's tight.

Harry couldn't help it, a smile drifted onto his face.

"It was perfect, like my soul was complete, Tom."

Tom sat forwards as he placed his wand on the chair. He didn't say anything as he surveyed Harry with a scrutinising look.

"And after-"

Harry instantly went rigid, pulling away, but Tom squeezed his hands, keeping him close. Tom was doing it again, sinking Harry into whatever calming state that he was capable. But Harry didn't want to remember.

"Don't-"

Tom nodded, as he ran his fingers in soothing motions carefully across his bandages.

"What if you-" Tom shut his eyes. "What if you try again and want to take my soul?"

"I won't," Harry said.

"You were going to, regardless of how I taste," Tom said. "What if next time you act on your instincts."

Harry shook his head, his dead eye revealing nothing of the temptation of dæmons.

"I can't see you."

"I-what?"

Tom pulled back, breaking their hands apart. Harry waved his hand in front of his right eye.

"I can't see anything at the moment, because there aren't any dæmons around."

"I'm solid to you," Tom said. "Perhaps it works differently for your own dæmon?"

"Perhaps," Harry mumbled, knowing that he could ignore the single broken strand of particles leading away from his absent heart, trailing into the distance.

"Harry?"

"Everyone is connected to their dæmons," Harry said quietly. "I can see it, see their connections and how they are anchored to each other."

Tom opened his mouth to reply, only to stop as his brow furrowed. He shifted forwards, as he stared at Harry in disbelief.

"You know where Lyra is?" he whispered.

Harry couldn't respond as his throat tightened, he nodded once. Tom lent closer, his own hand hovering just over where Harry's heart should be, as if he too would see the thin broken link which led straight to Lyra.

"What about us?" Tom asked softly.

Harry shut his left eye, and moved his hand in front of his right. Still darkness.

"I don't see any connection."

Tom didn't press further, if anything he looked like he'd regretted asking.

He stood up abruptly.

"I'm heading to bed. Are you coming, Harry?"

Harry tore his gaze away from the fire, momentarily.

"Oh-yeah."

Harry followed Tom up the dormitory stairs, unable to push away the nagging feeling clawing at his thoughts.

Harry had known it as soon as their lips had touched, only confirmed by the absence of any golden dust. It was the true reason that he had spared Tom and the reason why Harry would never be tempted to take Tom's soul again.

Tom must have known, why else was he suddenly reluctant to talk.

Harry didn't bother to change, his head sinking into his pillow as he stared blankly at his drapes. Tom shifted beside him, his hands teasing under Harry shirt, although he was careful to avoid the worst of Harry's damaged skin and the abyss that was his heart.

Harry took a deep breath, catching Tom in his chill. Tom's fingers dug in slightly in return as his eyes shuddered shut.

It shouldn't make any sense, Tom shouldn't be affected. Harry preyed on dæmons alone, not remnants of whatever Lord Voldemort had gifted him.

Harry twisted onto his side, staring back at Tom's troubled face. Harry could deny it no longer.

Tom wasn't a dæmon.


	31. Chapter Thirty One

Sirius halted and his nose twitched as he sniffed the cool morning air. Harry's scent was faint, almost non-existent, but Sirius wagged his tail all the same as he scanned the far side of the riverbank. Sure enough, faint paw prints led away from the waters edge before they disappeared into the nearby hedgerow.

"Min, I think we're getting close."

As always, his bark was met with no response.

Sirius placed his belly against the ground and straightened his ears. The nearest village was about a mile back down the hillside, yet Sirius stayed watching and waiting for an hour before he released Mintaka from his hold.

There was a scuffle and a growl as Sirius fell back into his own scratched and bruised skin. He had only seconds to prepare.

Mintaka was rabid, her eyes ferocious as she snarled. Sirius took a hesitant step back into the long grass, his palms open and his arms wide.

"Min, it's me-"

But Mintaka wasn't listening and she dug her hind legs into the mud and lunged.

Sirius leapt back, but it was not enough as sharp teeth ripped across his shoulder. He howled as his already weak body slumped to the ground. Sirius grabbed his dæmons scruff, but any attempt to yank her away failed.

"Stop-"

Sirius reached out with his other hand and entwined his fingers into his dæmons mattered fur. Mintaka's jaw slackened, but she didn't draw away as blood pooled in her mouth.

She was getting worse. At least in Azkaban they had suffered together, but now Sirius dully wondered if he'd pushed his dæmon too far.

All the while, Mintaka stayed attached to his arm as the blood continued to seep down his shoulder. It was only minutes later when she finally whimpered and dipped her tail between her legs.

Sirius forced a weary smile onto his face as she withdrew.

"Hello."

Mintaka didn't return the welcome. Instead, she eyed up the his newest gash. She dropped her head, her voice coming out in a low growl.

"I'm going to end up killing you."

Sirius flashed her another weak smile and battered her gently on the nose.

"I can handle it."

Mintaka's ears flattened as she pressed her own tongue up against Sirius' shoulder and began to nurse it clean.

"We need to stay separated. Weeks is dangerous enough, but months-" Mintaka said. "If you would just let me track her instead-"

But Sirius shook his head as he teased his fingers into her fur.

"You're too weak, Min and you know it. And her scent is close. It'll be weeks before we get a chance like this again."

Sirius looked back to the small paw prints across the bank.

"We can't give up now, Min. We have to find her, for Harry's sake."

* * *

It was Harry's birthday. But there was no celebration, and the only recognition Harry had received had been one single sheet of parchment that had just arrived.

_Happy Birthday, Harry. Write me back, Draco._

Draco's eagle owl had since retreated to a perch in a nearby tree and she looked quite content as she rested, undisturbed by the large tentacles which lazily broke the lake waters surface.

Tom was sprawled out on the grass as the morning sun beamed down. But what little warmth that would have reached their spot on the bank was swallowed up by Harry's surrounding chill.

"I wouldn't bother," Tom muttered with his eyes still shut. "It'll be sent on Voldemort's orders, Draco doesn't even know you're alive."

But that was exactly why Harry was still holding his quill as his absent heart twisted in whatever blackness it was consumed in.

"I know that," Harry said quietly as his fingers creased around the single torn edge. He wrote so very slowly.

_I hope you found her._

But that was all Harry could manage as he watched the words sink into the familiar parchment.

Tom's eyes flicked open. He exhaled and his breath fogged up in front of him.

"Harry?"

The air temperature plummeted another few degrees and a layer of frost began to form on each blade of grass. When Harry stayed silent, Tom prodded him sharply in the side.

Harry's withered hand crumpled around the parchment and he stuffed it into his pocket. He didn't dare look at Tom, so instead Harry stared out across the glistening trail across the lake.

"Lyra's link is so clear."

The golden dust was so bright, and not even the sun shining in his good eye could detract from where Harry's dæmon was truly hidden.

Tom's eyes sat up, an odd expression on his face. It took a moment for Tom to respond.

"You know we can't," he said quietly.

Harry swallowed hard and his chill extended so that icy patterns began to creep across the waters edge.

"I left you in that Chamber, Tom. You would have stayed there for eternity because I was weak. I won't do the same again. I won't abandon Lyra, not now-"

"And when you do find her," Tom's gaze flicked deliberately over Harry's ashen skin before pausing on his dead eye. "What will you do with her?"

Harry glared at him.

"I'm not going to hurt her!"

Tom raised an eyebrow at this.

"I'm not-" Harry protested.

Tom shifted closer so that they were only inches apart. His lips twisted into a sad, knowing smile.

Hot breath washed over Harry's face as his chill danced across Tom's exposed skin. Tom shivered, but he didn't draw away. If anything he pressed himself closer, teasing almost as his lips brushed against Harry's.

"Are you sure?" Tom whispered.

Harry twisted his head away, biting back the darkness which engrossed him.

"That's not fair."

Tom didn't shift back, instead his hand weaved to grip tightly around Harry's wrist and when he spoke, his voice was nothing but cold.

"Do not mistake our closeness for what you'll achieve with Lyra."

Harry bristled, his gaze lingering on the wand held idly in Tom's other fingers. Lyra was his alone, and no one could keep her from him, not even Tom.

Harry reached forwards and coiled his free hand around the front of Tom's robes.

"But you can help me," Harry said, his own voice soft but just as cold.

Tom attempted to move back and his grip tightened ever so slightly around his wand.

"I make you less erratic," Tom agreed slowly. "But do not think I'm capable of removing your instincts completely. If allowed, you would destroy every dæmon at any opportunity, and that includes Lyra."

Harry's lips curled slightly at this, and Tom's eyes held a sadness which burned across their connection.

It was so easy.

Harry jerked Tom forwards, catching him off balance as he threw his own weight forwards. Tom jabbed his wand forwards, but he could say nothing as Harry lent forwards to met him.

Harry's own lips brushed over Tom's and Harry wondered if he would ever be able to tease out Tom's impossible soul.

"Lyra is _mine_ ," Harry breathed. "And you will not keep her from me."

But his words fell on deaf ears.

Tom had gone deadly still and his face was so sickly and pale. The only indication that he was unharmed was the small flutter as his chest rose and fell sharply.

Harry fell back and clamped his hands over his mouth. He wanted Lyra, so badly he wanted, but this was so twisted and wrong.

"Tom-"

But Tom eyes were unfocused as his lip trembled. His eyes remained shut.

It wasn't right.

"I-"

Harry's own breath was freezing against what small patches of human skin remained and Tom had no means to protect himself from Harry's deadly thaw. But the possibility of a happy thought was impossible.

Tom's wand remained tight in his hand and the only evidence that Tom was conscious was when it twitched slightly.

Harry dared to reach out.

"Tom?"

Tom flinched but he didn't draw away. Instead it looked like he was forcing himself to not to flee as his muscles stiffened and his eyes peeled open.

Harry pulled his own hand back.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

But Tom was still determined to make his point.

"Just imagine if I was Lyra-" Tom whispered.

Harry stared down at his golden link, spilling out from his empty chest. Lyra had never felt so close and yet her absence was just as raw as the day she'd left. Harry's good eye swelled as his throat burned. Lyra wouldn't stand a chance.

"What does it feel like?" Harry whispered. "When I-"

Tom's eyes shone with the most intense fear that broke Harry's absent heart.

This could not go on. Which meant there was only one option left.

"So we stay at Hogwarts and cooperate with the Ministry?" Harry relented.

Tom nodded once and drew his own arms around himself. If anything he was staring blankly across the lake as he ran his other hand absently through his hair.

"We can't do this on our own, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth, but the calming hum that Tom had managed to enclose them both in stayed his chill. If anything, the surrounding frost had began to thaw as Tom took Harry's withered palm in his.

Harry's dared not breathe as he spoke.

"What about Voldemort?"

Tom visibly stiffened at this but any response was lost on Harry as he twisted around suddenly. He stared in the direction of the entrance gates. In a moment, he was on his feet, only stayed by Tom's wand which caught him around the midriff.

"They're here already-" Harry said as he stared in the direction of the entrance gates.

Sure enough, a dozen dæmons had appeared, each dazzling and more tempting than the last.

* * *

The Great Hall was lined with aurors and more importantly dæmons.

But more interestingly, there was a dæmon Harry had never seen before. She was monstrous, an enormous wolf which was the height of the wizard she was standing beside, while her golden particles danced around the wizard in erratic movements. Their link splintered off, and the wizard looked like he had small golden dust which clung to his skin. It was mesmerising and Harry took a direct step forwards.

Tom's own hand wound around Harry's wrist as he tugged him back to his side, leading him into the center of the hall where Scrimgeour waited.

Nala was a few steps behind the auror and her pupils narrowed to slits as she bared her claws.

"Are you ready?" Scrimgeour asked.

But Harry wasn't interested in the aurors or their dæmons.

"Who's he?" Harry asked.

Another unknown man was knelt on the floor. He had thick chains that weaved tightly up to large shackles locked around his neck and wrists. Behind him two aurors had their wands trained at his buffalo dæmon who also had secure rings around its thick neck.

Harry hadn't noticed this dæmon at first, her light was so dull compared to every other in the room. But that wasn't the only difference. The buffalo's dust wouldn't settle, it bled outwards in erratic directions which seemed to pull towards Harry in a single rattling breath.

The man looked torn between absolute terror and confusion as his eyes terrified flicked between Harry, Tom and Scrimgeour.

"Someone who was been sentenced to the dementor's kiss," Scrimgeour said.

Harry's mouth split into a delirious smile and he couldn't help but let his eyes roam over the dæmon's faded light. She wasn't his first choice, but she'd do.

"You'll let me-?"

"Dementors react positively to the promise of souls," Scrimgeour said gruffly. "We're assuming it's going to be the same for you."

Now Harry was definitely interested as he shifted closer, his breath harrowing.

Scrimgeour nodded to Tom, who took a deep breath of his own.

He squeezed Harry's hand gently and pulled back slightly.

"You're going to be on your own-"

Harry gripped Tom's wrists fiercely.

"Don't you dare," Harry snarled. "You swore-"

"We'll still be connected," Tom said quickly. "But I won't be helping you. They just want to see how you react while I'm not interfering."

Harry didn't let go. Tom leant closer, so that his mouth was right by his ear.

"Harry, it'll be okay," Tom whispered. Harry saw the briefest of winks.

Tom pried his fingers from Harry's own as he stepped back. But Tom was still there, his calming control screaming across their connection. So much so that Harry didn't immediately hunt down his prey.

Only it didn't last long, Tom's influence was already strained by their lack of direct contact. And then in a moment the dæmon was right before Harry, and his darkness took hold.

The man screamed and his dæmon stomped its hooves.

It must have been barbaric to anyone but Harry. To Harry it was perfection, to see this dæmon's light coiling towards himself.

Nala leapt between him and his prey, along with the shinning bright white lights of the other few patronus'. Harry halted, his breath recoiling as he glared at the untouchable souls and the dæmon that was snatched from him.

Scrimgeour sighed and pinched his nose with his fingers.

"You have to actually try, Potter," Scrimgeour said.

Harry flicked him a twisted smile as he shrugged all too innocently.

"Fine, what's the deal?"

"One hour."

Harry's dead eye scanned over the buffalo dæmon and her damaged form.

"She's not worth one hour," Harry countered.

"One hour," Scrimgeour repeated. "Then she's all yours."

* * *

Tom retreated the edge of the hall, just far enough so that he could reach Harry if necessary. But Harry was already distracted, his hunger overpowering in every sense that it left Tom's own attention drifting to the other dæmons in the room. It was unnerving, Tom didn't know if this was normal or not. Dementors were meant to be relatively stable, but Harry was truly something else entirely.

Someone walked up beside him and took a seat on one of the house benches which had been pushed up against the wall.

"You're coping very well," Dumbledore said.

Tom clenched his fists, resisting the temptation to pull out his wand and cut the headmaster down.

"What do you want?" Tom snapped.

"We can't help Harry if you don't let go completely," Dumbledore said.

"I'm not interfering. You said it yourself, Harry has a good resolve."

And Harry was definitely coping okay. He seemed to be almost toying with the buffalo, just to satisfy Scrimgeour. It was still promising though, anything that would hold off Harry's primal instincts.

But the wispy dæmon could only hold Harry's attention for so long and it was apparent his true desire was elsewhere.

"Potter seems rather taken with Niamh," Moody said as he hobbled up beside Dumbledore. Moody nodded towards the other stranger in the room.

"Who is he?" Tom asked. The man was standing at the other end of the hall, he was dressed in tattered clothes and had a wolf dæmon beside him.

"Professor Remus Lupin," Dumbledore said. "He's our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"What happened to Lockhart?"

"We thought it was more appropriate to have someone capable of dealing with Potter should the need arise," Moody grunted.

Tom glared at the auror and his own wand sparked.

"I already said I would stop Harry if necessary."

Moody's blue eye flicked away from Harry only for a moment.

"Every precaution is required," Moody grunted.

"Professor Lupin will be giving private lessons to yourself and Harry," Dumbledore explained. "He's one of the few wizards that can relate to what Harry is experiencing."

"He doesn't look very demented," Tom said dryly.

Dumbledore smiled slightly.

"Every full moon Professor Lupin is forced to take the form of his dæmon who will transform into something much more savage and dangerous."

Tom raised his eyebrows at this as he looked at the large wolf with much more interest.

But Dumbledore wasn't finished.

"Harry will also be starting Occulumency lessons with Professor Snape."

Tom's anger thrummed across their connection that even Harry who had been so absorbed with the dæmons in front of him, stopped and looked their way.

"No. You've done enough digging around in Harry's mind, I'm not having a Death Eater-" Tom started.

Moody snorted at this as his gnarled face split into the most frightful grin. Dumbledore however only sighed heavily as tired eyes blinked behind half moon glasses.

"What has Lord Voldemort told you of Professor Snape?"

Tom didn't answer, but he didn't need to as he glared at them both.

"I would ask that you do not antagonise Professor Snape," Dumbledore said. "His help is a great value and it would be wise to heed his advise. I can assure you, Professor Snape has only Harry's benefit at heart-"

But Tom's attention snapped away, he knew what was going to happen a second too late.

Harry lunged suddenly, his feet ripping from the ground as his patience wavered. It was only Tom who was spared Harry icy clutch as the room faded of all warmth. But the dæmons had been ready, each reacting as one as they moved to protect Harry's prey.

The chained man fell sobbing as the dæmons moved to protect him.

Across the hall, Harry's dead eye seemed to pierce through every soul as Tom took a step towards him.

Tom paused and looked back to Dumbledore. He dared not ask.

"How long was that?"

Dumbledore pulled out an old golden pocket watch.

"Fifteen minutes."

Tom shut his eyes as his heart pounded. If Harry was ever to get Lyra back, he'd need all the help he could get.

"Fine," Tom relented. "But one wrong move from Snape and I'll kill him myself."

* * *

Riddle hummed, his eyes alight as long awaited words rushed through his very existence. He had been patient, had known that it could only be a matter of time, but to have the words written before him was satisfying confirmation.

The drawing room of Malfoy Manor was dark, had been locked in more ways than Riddle personally thought was necessary, but his Lord would take no chances. Not when his most treasured was hidden so close.

And Riddle waited, his own excitement rising as he itched to respond. But he had strict instructions and it was not worth replying, not yet anyway.

Voldemort entered the drawing room silently. His robes flowed around his new skeletal body as his red eyes seared through the dim candle light. He came to a halt in front of an enchanted table which had Riddle's diary resting upon it. But the Dark Lord had no welcome as he stroked a single spidery finger down its spine, teasing open its pages to reveal the freshly written words.

_I hope you found her._

Voldemort's fingers traced over the inked scrawl, as his gaze sharpened.

Riddle didn't react. There was only one order his Lord could truly give now.

"You are playing a dangerous game," Voldemort hissed softly. "If the boy had not survived-"

Riddle only smiled, his lips curling as he idly twirled Potter's wand between his fingers.

"Then I would have lost nothing," Riddle said mildly.

"Nothing," Voldemort hissed. "And yet, you have given our enemies the evidence of my rebirth, the awareness of your existence, and not forgetting, the true nature of what you and Tom really are, all for what-"

Riddle didn't flinch, if anything his demeanour shifted as his face twisted into something unpleasant.

"She is worth _everything_. Or have you really become so disillusioned with your own soul that you would leave her in that state-"

Riddle was silenced with a fierce flick of Voldemort's own wand, cutting down in a thunderous wave of magic.

"And if Potter will not cooperate?" Voldemort hissed.

Black sparks spat from Riddle's own grip as he levelled the wand.

"He will for me."

Voldemort's scarlet eyes flashed, his expression unreadable, testing almost as he surveyed his soul and the diary's new words.

There was a moment where neither of them spoke.

Voldemort's fingers curved around the diary's spine as he pulled it out of its protective hold. He flicked the pages over to where the single page had been torn out. A fresh layer of ink was seeping to the parchments exposed surface. A form of a small pine marten danced across the crease, treading lightly across its ethereal background. Voldemort's command was clear as he pressed it into Riddle's waiting hands.

"Bring her to me."


	32. Chapter Thirty Two

Tom was asleep. His brow was creased as his chest rose and fell softly. He would have looked vaguely peaceful had it not been that his wand was held loosely in his grip.

Harry was almost tempted to slip back under the covers despite his current inability to sleep. Instead he remained silent and still as he watched Tom from his perch on the window sill.

The last year already felt like a twisted memory and the thought that Tom had, even for a part, not been with him, was such an alien concept that Harry struggled to think on it.

Without thinking of Riddle, of course.

Harry turned back to the single piece of the diary held tightly in his bandaged hands. Fresh words lingered on the page. They were so bold that they must have been written only seconds ago.

_Yes, I found her._

Harry's head was ringing. Riddle had found Nagini after all this time. Or rather, Voldemort had been pleased enough with his new body to reward his soul.

Harry itched to reach for a quill, to write back while Riddle's attention was guaranteed, but he couldn't force himself to move.

The room danced in Harry's ebbing shadow as it cut fiercely into every corner. It plunged everything into cold as it skimmed over Riddle's soul, which was so faint compared to Tom's, the diary page only held remnants of a fracture after all, but it was so similar as if Riddle was in part there himself.

Tom was stirring, disturbed by Harry's distress, his hand reaching out to find the empty space beside him. When he found it vacant, his eyes blinked open as he squinted through the darkness.

"Harry-" Tom mumbled.

"You should get some more sleep," Harry said quietly. "It's not morning yet."

But Tom was already rubbing his eyes as he stifled a yawn.

"How long have you been awake?"

Harry shrugged, his eyes drifting to look out of the window. The moonlight offered only a thin outline of the grounds that Harry could see nothing but his link to Lyra.

Tom slipped out of bed, his bare feet flinching against the unexpected chill of the floor as he made his way over to Harry.

Harry let Tom tuck his arms tightly around him as he placed his head on Harry's shoulder. It was if Tom was clinging to the little warmth left in the room despite Harry having none. They remained in silence for a moment while Tom's gentle breathing stole Harry's attention.

"You were thinking about him again," Tom murmured.

Harry tensed but he didn't deny it. If anything the single diary page which he had just stuffed in his pajama pocket was burning.

"Why do you say that?" Harry asked.

Tom's voice was so quiet in the darkness, and there was nothing to hide the ache in his own voice.

"You were with Riddle for weeks, bonded in the most intimate way," Tom whispered as his fingers scratched into Harry's decayed skin. "You shared your deepest secrets, gave him your most precious-"

Harry twisted round to see Tom staring at him.

"I didn't want to-"

"But you did, you gave him your soul." The bitterness and pure jealously was clear enough that Harry didn't even dare to contest it. But Tom didn't look angry, if anything his whole demeanor shifted as he moved Harry back to lean against his shoulder.

"Harry-" Tom started, "You know you can talk to me about what happened?"

Harry's throat went dry and he made to move away, only Tom's other arm wound tight around his waist.

"Stay-" Tom started.

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry said as he turned his head away. "Anyway I'm fine-"

But the cold was creeping over the window, freezing the glass panes and blocking out the moonlight. If anything it was Tom who shrunk back, the chill effecting him too, but he pushed on as his own voice faltered.

"I-I just don't want to find out tomorrow."

"From Occulumency?"

Tom nodded as his own fingers clung into Harry, as if he would disappear in a single moment.

"You cared for him didn't you?" Tom pressed.

"I-"

"It's okay, Harry-"

Harry froze up. It wasn't okay. Harry tore himself away from Tom as he moved off the window sill.

"I didn't, I don't-"

Why was it so hard. But Tom's composure held despite Harry's distress. He closed the gap between them.

"You haven't mentioned Riddle since the first time-" Tom said. "You were hurting then-"

Harry didn't move, he stayed rigidly still in the middle of the dormitory.

Tom entwined one hand in Harry's, while the other pressed against Harry's ashen face, he traced his fingers so gently over Harry's scar before brushing back his fringe.

"Harry, talk to me."

Harry genuinely didn't know if it was Tom's own desires tugging at his soul, wishing for Harry to share what he'd kept locked away, or if it was Harry's own desperation that he just wanted to unload his growing guilt.

It couldn't get any worse than this.

"Do you ever think about your dæmon?" Harry asked.

Tom looked genuinely surprised, so much so that his grip lessoned.

"Nagini?"

Harry nodded.

"I mean, in passing but not really-" Tom trailed off.

"Nagini is to Riddle what I am to you," Harry said. "I just- I knew all along that was his intention, that Riddle was just using me to get back what he lost- of course he was going to choose her-"

Tom's expression darkened instantly, and his eyes glowered something deadly. Even his wand, which was tucked in his pocket seemed to sense his anger as it spat out black sparks.

"If you are trying to excuse his actions-" Tom hissed.

But Tom had entirely missed the point.

"I knew you wouldn't understand," Harry snapped as he shoved Tom away.

"Wait, Harry I-"

But Harry had already crossed the room and slammed the bathroom door shut, locking it behind him. He expected Tom to bang on the door or at least open it with his wand, but Harry was left in cold lingering silence as he stared at his half decayed face in the mirror.

It was a harsh reminder of Riddle's decision, that when compared to Lord Voldemort's true soul, nothing was more important despite whatever Harry could convince himself otherwise.

Harry pulled out the parchment piece feeling worse than he had before, but Riddle's words had already vanished.

* * *

By the next morning Harry was dreading Occulumency even more.

Tom sat opposite him at the empty Gryffindor table, with one hand he was eating his breakfast while with the other he had propped up a book.

It was only when Harry pushed his uneaten breakfast away did Tom look up.

"You need to eat something," Tom said quietly.

Harry stared at their usual selection of fruit, cereals and pumpkin juice but he didn't make any movement to take anything else.

"I'd rather a dæmon," Harry mumbled, but this didn't go unheard by Tom whose attention was drawn completely from his book as he raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Harry shrugged. "Food is just so...bland."

"And you can stop eating it as soon as you have a sustainable source of souls," Tom said. "Until then you're going to have to embrace your human side for subsistence."

Harry slumped, staring bitterly at a pile of pancakes, before he suddenly perked up.

"You said Voldemort would let me have all the souls I want-"

Tom looked torn between amusement and frustration.

"Technically Voldemort doesn't have an unlimited amount of souls to give you," Tom said.

"Well he's got more than one," Harry said grinned.

Tom blinked at this.

"I'm only a piece," he said. "Same as Riddle. We don't count as a whole."

Harry shrugged.

"What about Nagini?"

There was a sudden ripple of emotion across their bond and Harry paused, his own confusion now mixed with something that he couldn't place.

"You can't have more than one soul, Harry," Tom said quietly.

"I have you and Lyra," Harry said.

A sad smile tugged onto Tom's lips.

"You know that's not the same."

Harry shrugged as he swung his legs over the bench. His dead eye had been watching for dæmons all morning but had yet to see so much of a glisten.

"I guess, anyway it looks like Snape's not coming, do you want to go down to the lake-"

"Potter!"

Harry jumped as he twisted around to see a furious looking Snape standing at the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Where's your dæmon?" Harry blurted out.

But Snape didn't deem this worthy of an answer as he marched up between the house table, his wand in hand as he glared at them.

"As impressive as it is that you can still be late when you are the soul occupant of this castle is beyond me, Potter."

"I didn't think you were here," Harry bit out as he looked again for Laraine. When she didn't appear, Harry looked to Tom with a frown.

"You're lucky term time hasn't started," Snape sneered. "Or perhaps Gryffindor will be starting the year on negative house points-"

"It was my fault, Professor," Tom interrupted, his disturbingly fake smile on his lips. "I was too engrossed in my book, Legilimency is just as interesting as Occulumency is it not?"

Tom's fingers trailed over the spine as he locked his eyes purposely with Snape's.

Snape's lips were dangerously thin as he chose not to comment, instead he turned robes swiveling around him as he marched back the way he had come.

"Why isn't Laraine with him?" Harry hissed as soon as Snape was out of earshot.

Tom shrugged, a little all too innocently as he shoved some food into Harry's hand.

* * *

Snape's office was a shadowy room with shelves bearing hundreds of glass jars in which slimy bits of animals and plants were suspended in a variety of different coloured potions.

Snape was standing just in front the fireplace, his hands clasp behind his back.

"You know why you are here?" Snape asked.

Both Harry and Tom's attention was drawn towards the familiar shallow basin which sat upon the desk.

The basin was tainted black despite the numerous memories swirling within its depths. Harry only needed a single glance before he knew exactly which memory was rotten.

Harry nodded stiffly.

"At the moment everyone is clutching onto what's left of your humanity," Snape explained. "Occulumency, is a branch of magic which seals the mind against magical intrusion and influence. Theoretically, you will be able to shut down your primal instinct to hunt dæmons. Now, stand closer, Potter."

Harry didn't move, if anything he took a slight step closer to Tom. This was all happening quicker than he was comfortable.

"I am about to attempt to break into your mind," Snape said softly. "You in turn need to empty your thoughts, let go of all emotions and desires. Now, _Legilimens _-"__

Snape had struck before Harry was ready, before he had even begun to summon any force of resistance, but it didn't matter anyway.

Tom was lightening fast, his own wand blocking Snape's curse before firing back one of his own.

Snape's wand jerked again it turn but Tom was completely in control, his own spell twisting as Snape's wand flew out of grip and into Tom's own.

Snape had a moment where his expression was priceless, his eyes were bulging slightly before Tom struck.

 _"Legilimens,"_ Tom hissed.

Snape staggered as the curse struck him.

Tom looked deadly, his wand turning sharply as Snape's eyes stayed disturbingly still, almost as if they had glossed over, but Tom offered him no mercy.

"Tom-" Harry started. It looked like Snape was trying to pull away, to break contact, but his composure remained disturbingly calm under Tom's attack.

And then finally Tom relented and he lowered his wand an odd expression on his face.

"It was worth a shot," Tom said but he sounded almost disappointed. Instead he turned to scan Snape's rows of potions. "Is there any reason you don't keep veritaserum readily available?"

Snape's face was white, his lips pressed so tightly together as he glared at Tom. But Tom didn't raise his wand again, instead he tossed Snape's wand down at his feet.

Snape moved silently and slowly to collect it as his long robes fell around him. Tom gaze was now lingered on the blackened pensieve as if wondering what else could be hidden within.

"By all means," Snape spat, his face twisted in a nasty scowl. "If you think I've even put any of my memories in there."

Tom ignored Snape's thunderous expression as he inspected the swirling basin. Perhaps it would reveal the secrets that Tom was hunting, but he made no move to find out. Not when that particular memory was in there.

"Are you satisfied?" Snape hissed, his own fury seeming so out of place against Tom's calm.

"Completely," Tom flashed a daring smile.

"You are fortunate given the circumstances," Snape hissed, his nostrils flaring. "If you had been anyone else-"

"It's a good job I'm not just anyone," Tom said, oh so sweetly. "Shall we try again? Harry wasn't ready last time."

For a moment, Harry thought that Snape would try and curse Tom and return the favour but the professor was satisfied to turn his fury to Harry instead.

 _"Legilimens,"_ Snape hissed. But this time Tom didn't raise his wand and this time it was all the more intrusive as Harry had no way of protesting.

They were ten, and Harry was sitting at the back of the classroom as his teacher scolded him for talking in class...they were in first year and Harry was standing by Tom's side as Dumbledore held out the portkey for them to take...they were in the decrepit shack and Tom was prying his hand away from Harry as he came to a halt beside Quirrell as the guillotine stood proud in the background.

No, this wasn't right.

Harry didn't want to see, didn't want to remember Tom's deception. He was stronger than this, he hadn't had any nightmares in months.

Tom was smiling at him as he rapt Harry's own wand against his metal prison. There was no way out, no escape.

Harry screamed, his hands covering his ears as he closed his eyes. This wasn't his Tom.

It happened suddenly. Harry was released from his memories. The burning pain in his throat disappeared almost as if it had never been there as Harry was left shaking and desperate for something to hold onto.

The room was coated in ice. The hundreds of glass bottles had frosted over and even Tom who had been holding Harry's hand in his was not spared. Snape however, was unaffected as he merely flicked his wand causing a small fire to erupt under the nearby cauldron.

"You actually have to try, Potter," Snape sneered.

"I don't see the point in any of this," Harry snapped, thinking back to when Tom had attempted Occulumency under Voldemort's instruction. "Why would I want to shut Tom out?"

Snape looked at them both for a moment, his cold gaze lingering a little too uncomfortably on Tom before he answered.

"What do you mean, Potter? You're supposed to dispel all desires, not shut your dæmon out."

"So why is it that anytime a piece of Voldemort's soul shuts me out I'm left on my own?" Harry countered angrily.

Snape sneered at this, his lip curling rather nastily.

"The Dark Lord is a master of Occulumency. Are you telling me that the pieces of his soul are capable of making such an amateur mistake?"

"Riddle's was intentional," Tom said coolly as he crossed his arms and glared at Snape. "And it was my first attempt to be fair, I didn't want to try again."

"But you want to learn now?" Harry snapped.

"Under supervision," Tom acknowledged. "I don't plan on separating myself from you again."

Snape stepped closer, peering at the both of them as he placed a single finger to his lips. He was silent for a moment, his brow creased in genuine confusion as he tapped his wand against his leg. Finally, he raised it and pointed it at Tom.

"I have a theory but to prove it I'm going to attempt to break into your mind, I want you to block it."

Surprisingly, Tom nodded as he lowered his own wand, his own expression steeling over into something unreadable.

 _"Legilimens,"_ Snape hissed.

This time Snape's curse hit Tom, and Harry could only watch as Tom remained perfectly still with his eyes unnervingly blank, just like Snape's had been. His body relaxed in its entirety as if Snape was not attempting to break into his mind.

And that's when it happened. The same small burst of excruciating emptiness, only this time Harry lost all sight as his world plunged into dark. There was nothing, just for a single moment and it passed before Harry lost all reason.

Tom was by his side in a moment, arms wrapping around Harry's shoulders as his sight came flooded back.

"Okay?" Tom pressed as his fingers gently traced over Harry's decayed skin to push back his fringe.

Harry nodded thickly, as his own withered hand dug fiercely into Tom's. If Tom tried that again-

"Your technique is flawless," Snape interrupted as he spoke to Tom. "Which means Potter shouldn't have been effected," his piercing gaze settled back onto Harry.

Harry glared back at him. It wasn't his fault that it wasn't working properly.

"That is enough for today," Snape declared suddenly and he turned his back on them as he approached the swirling memories in the basin. "I want to see you Thursday 6 o'clock and this time don't be late."

Harry grabbed Tom, more than willing to get out of Snape's office as quickly as possible. It was just when they were at the door that Snape turned, calling over his shoulder.

"You are to _both_ rid yourself of desire ever night before you sleep; empty your minds, make them blank and calm, you understand?"

Tom shot Snape a dark look at that but he chose not to comment as he pulled Harry out of the room.

* * *

They weren't halfway down the corridor from Snape's office when Harry halted, spinning to face Tom.

"Why did you do that?" Harry demanded. "Potions class was already unbearable without you cursing Snape."

Tom battered his hand.

"Snape hates you anyway."

"So don't give him any more of a reason," Harry snapped. "He's probably going to go straight to Dumbledore, and that'll get Scrimgeour all worked up-"

"Snape's a Death Eater, Harry."

Harry stopped, it felt like he'd been drenched in ice as he stared at Tom.

"I-what?"

Snape had always been nasty enough. And it made sense, the fact that Snape can separate himself from Laraine.

"Which means Voldemort will already know you survived," Tom said, but it was more to himself as his gaze steeled over.

"Right," Harry said thickly as his own hand reached automatically for Riddle's diary page concealed in his pocket.

"I think it's safe to say Snape's doing what Voldemort wants," Tom continued as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "If I'd have pulled that stunt any other time, I'm fairly sure he'd have kicked us out of his office and refused to help again."

"Did you see anything?" Harry asked genuinely interested.

Tom shook his head.

"Snape is a master of Legilimency, strong enough to withhold his true intentions from Voldemort himself."

"So he's hiding his true intentions from Dumbledore?" Harry said.

"Oh, Dumbledore knows," Tom said. "Which makes Snape all the more dangerous because I don't know who's side he's on."

"Does it matter, isn't everyone our enemry?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Tom acknowledged slowly. "But I don't like it, specially if Voldemort is getting a look into your mind and seeing how your recovery is progressing-"

Tom trailed off and didn't speak for awhile, instead he flashed Harry an unconvincing smile.

"Come on, we've got our first lesson with Professor Lupin this afternoon and there's something I want to look up in the library first."

"Again?" Harry asked.

"I was petrified for months, I don't want to be behind. Speaking of which, you should really start on those books McGonagall left for you."

"I'm trying to learn not to eat dæmons and I'm expected to do homework as well," Harry muttered as he trailed after Tom.

* * *

Tom must have poured through half a dozen books while Harry attempted to get his head around second year transfiguration.

His parchment was still a foot shorter than it needed to be and he dropped his quill dejectedly.

"You'll catch up," Tom said without looking up from his book.

"How am I meant to learn when I'm not allowed a wand?" Harry said. "You could just let me borrow yours-"  
Tom withdrew it from his pocket and twirled it idly between his fingers.

"I could."

Harry eyed it carefully, and he resisted the urge to snatch it from Tom's hand.

"Just one spell, I'll give it back," Harry said. "It's not like there are any dæmons around."

Tom stared at him for a moment before he placed the wand on the table. He pushed it gently in Harry's direction. It rolled across the table before it stopped only inches away.

"I-"  
Harry faulted. He hadn't actually expected Tom to comply, if Scrimgeour knew- Harry reached out eagerly, his withered hand curling around the thin piece of wood as he waved it once.

A tremendous boom ricocheted throughout the room as books and parchment exploded outwards. Harry and Tom had nowhere to hide as books crashed down on their heads. Several of the bookshelves had cracked, their wood splintering as they collapsed in on themselves.

It was only the walls of the library itself that had been spared as several distant books began screaming loudly.

"What happened?" Tom demanded as he ducked under the broken table, just so that he could close any distance between Harry and himself.

Harry dropped the wand, his withered hands were scorched as a black blood like substance seeped across his palms.

"It doesn't like me," Harry snapped.

Tom scooped down to pick the wand up which now lying innocently on top of the mess. Tom's brow creased as he held it up to the candlelight.

"Did the Ministry tamper with it?" Harry said. "I know they don't want me to have a wand yet but that's a bit extreme-"

Tom flicked the wand, it worked perfectly as a single book revealed itself from the huge pile. It soared over and Tom caught it.

"I don't think so," he said.

The cover was a deep blue velvet with a single golden title - Basics of Wand Making.

Again, Tom flicked the wand and it had no problem obeying as the book rifled through half a dozen pages before stopping on a section titled Wand Cores.

Tom held it up, ignoring Harry's impatient gaze.

"The suitability of a wand to perform dark magic depends, at least partly, on its core, dragon heartstring, phoenix feather and rougarou hair have a reputation for being suitable for it, while it's hard to perform dark magic with unicorn hair wands," Tom read.

"I wasn't trying to perform dark magic," Harry argued as he jabbed his hand at the wand. "What core is your wand anyway?"

"Unicorn, the Ministry wouldn't want to make it easy for me," Tom said. "And it wouldn't matter what spell you attempted, you're a dark creature. It makes sense that this wand rejects you completely."

"Why isn't it the same for you?" Harry said as his dead eye roamed over Tom's missing form. "You're not exactly pure."

Harry hadn't expected Tom's expression to shift at this, Harry almost wouldn't have caught it if it hadn't been for the flutter of emotion that scratched between them.

"No, I'm not," Tom agreed. "I'm a fractured soul from a dark wizard, for all extents and purposes I shouldn't be capable, however, my magic is Voldemort's which isn't strictly dark in itself. Which must mean something else entirely-"

Tom trailed off, his own sadness now apparent as he stared at Harry.

"What?" Harry pressed. It was horrible that look and Harry could only wait for Tom's conclusion.

"Your magic is corrupted," Tom said softly. "And you can't control it."

It was instantaneous. The atmosphere shifted as cold began to creep across the library and the pile of books. Tom slipped, his own expression faltering as he grasp hold of the table.

"Harry-"

"What do you mean corrupted?" Harry asked as glared at the wand held in Tom's hand. "It's just your stupid wand, if I had my own back-"

His voice stopped but it wasn't for lack of words. If anything, a disturbed grin flicked back onto Harry's own lips as his world brightened with that same precious light.

In turn Tom was coming back into himself but he couldn't see the beauty that Harry could. Instead Tom was only left staring at the chaotic scene around them, with the hundreds of library books frozen in ice. He didn't bother to raise his wand and put anything back in place.

"Lupin?" Tom asked warily.

Harry only nodded, his own want so fierce across their bond.

"Come on," Tom said as he threaded his own hand in Harry's. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

Professor Lupin was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizards robes which had been darned in several places. Not that Harry cared, even his conversation with Tom was already less interesting then the mesmerising dæmon in the room.

The same golden dust clung to Lupin's skin as the giant wolfs particles danced around him. Harry tugged against his restraints, itching to claim this soul as his hollow breath consumed all things good.

Lupin's face momentarily drained of all colour and he placed both of his palms against his warn desk. He shut his eyes and he took a single shaky breath.

Harry grinned as the dust coiled towards him, it was so refreshing having a dæmon, particularly as one as strong as this so close.

"Harry, enough."

Tom's voice was sharp, but his grip was soft as he squeezed Harry's hand. Harry sighed, almost as if he was bored as his dead eye slipped away from Niamh. Lupin struggled to regain his composure as he curled his fingers into his dæmon's fur. But whatever comfort he could draw was little, for as he spoke his voice remained quiet and croaky.

"My name if Professor Remus Lupin and as well as being your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dumbledore has asked me to assist in your rehabilitation," Lupin wiped his hand over his face before he surveyed them both. "I understand that you are aware of my condition?"

A grin split onto Harry's face as he leant closer towards Niamh.

"You hunt dæmons."

It wasn't a question, but Harry was expecting a response all the same.

Lupin nodded, perhaps because it was easier than talking.

"To some extent. Werewolves prominently prey on dæmons but of course they will kill anything that crosses their path."

He walked around his desk and pulled out a small vial which looked to be filled with faint blue smoke.

"Fortunately, there is now the wolfsbane potion. It's an amazingly complex concoction which means that even when I am forced to inhabit Niamh's body, I will remain in control however," and here Lupin's expression soured, his green eyes looking more yellowy. "I did not always have that luxury."

Harry leant forwards caught on every word.

"Did you ever get one?" Harry asked eagerly.

Lupin blinked, but he couldn't hide his true fear as Harry could taste his soul. This was much more fun than Snape's lessons where Harry couldn't touch him.

"I was very fortunate that I never did any lasting damage to a dæmon," Lupin said at last.

The words were so carefully chosen that Tom couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at this. Harry crossed his arms, disappointed.

"That doesn't count," he muttered.

"However, I would ask for your discretion in this matter," Lupin continued. "A lot of parents won't be too happy to know that a werewolf is teaching their children."

"I'm sure they'll have more prominent concerns," Tom said bitterly as he glanced over Harry.

But Harry wasn't listening, he was staring at Niamh as his dead eye darted back and forth over her humongous form. In turn she scratched her long sharp claws into the stone floor and she snarled, showing her deadly set of teeth. How could anyone not notice?

"Harry-"

Harry snapped around to look back at Tom who was pulling Harry's chained hands into his own.

"It's perfectly alright," Lupin said hoarsely, but he looked more unsettled if anything as he wrung his hands together. "Alastor Moody mentioned that Harry was rather taken with Niamh. More so than other dæmons in fact. Of course I didn't want to believe it at first, but with Harry's unwavering attentiveness and the fact that he can see what is hidden-"

Now that caught Harry's attention as he stared between the werewolf and Lupin. Was there something this dæmon was hiding from him. If anything Harry's breath was harrowing, as he dared to breath in her light.

Lupin staggered again, his own wand clenched so tightly in his shaking palm, but he didn't raise it.

But it was Tom who looked visibly stunned, his own eyes raking over Niamh before he turned to Harry.

"You can see the werewolf?"

Harry nodded once as his dead eye skirted back over Niamh. Could he claim her before her razor sharp teeth could kill him. Instead he stayed cautiously still as he itched to try.

"D-dementors are known for their poor eyesight," Lupin said. His voice was tight and his breath fogged up before him. "T-they can only see dæmons after all, anything else is blind to them, which means Harry has been relying on his undamaged eye for normal sight for anything that isn't a dæmon-"

Tom's expression sharpened at this.

"What are you implying?"

Lupin nodded at Harry.

"Harry's perception of Niamh is different. It's just like when I had transformed. I had the urge to hunt and kill dæmon's. However, I found mechanisms for staying my monstrous tendencies. Certain stimulus for example, I just had to find out what worked for me. It'll be the same for Harry-"

"Get to your point," Tom said coolly.

But this time Lupin's words were only for Harry and his voice practically broke as he took half a step towards him.

"You are still human," Lupin said firmly. "Very much so in fact from what I've seen, and the way Scrimgeour was actively encouraging you to behave just for the promise of a soul is an insult to what is still left of you."

"She wasn't even worth it," Harry muttered.

Tom crossed his arms, eyeing Lupin up as if he wasn't sure what to make of him.

"Fortunately, this gives us a good head start," Lupin croaked with a small smile despite the chill that was overcoming him.

It was Tom who frowned at this, unaffected from Harry's growing desires as he curled his fingers around Harry's wrist, just encase Harry decided to move.

"What?"

"Harry needs to stop looking at dæmons with his demented eye," Lupin said as he slumped back against the wall as Niamh light pulled towards Harry.

But the golden dust made her so perfect.

"Why?" Harry said his voice hard. He craved her very essence, he didn't want to resist her temptation, why should he settle for anything less than Lupin's very soul.

Niamh was strong though, she edged herself in front of Lupin as she snarled, but she in turn didn't dare approach Harry with his deadly breath.

Tom didn't step between them, he'd made that mistake of coming between Harry and his prey before. Instead he ran his hand down Harry's arm, just enough to catch his attention.

"Can you even stop looking?" Tom asked.

Harry didn't even bother to cover his own hand against his dead eye.

"Nothing blocks dæmons out."

Tom shifted closer, his head tilted and his voice so quiet that Lupin would not be able to hear.

"You look at me with your normal eye," Tom said quietly. "You wouldn't be able to see me otherwise."

Harry frowned at this, sure enough Tom remained a void in the darkness, blocking any other light which was possible.

"So?" Harry said. "Why does that change anything?"

Harry could see through any other material, his own hand even, but Tom was absent of light. Tom looked back to Lupin's slumped and trembling form.

"Can I try something?" Tom asked as he inched his hand up to Harry's face.

Lupin's eyes were basically shut and even Niamh had become subdued, there was no way Lupin could interrupt as Tom turned Harry to face him as he placed his hand gently over Harry's dead eye.

It was instantaneous, Niamh's light vanished in a swirl of colour as warmth shot into the room.

Harry could see dæmons through anything, his own hand even, but Tom was really something else entirely. It wasn't possible.

"Okay?" Tom asked.

"I think so-"

Harry twisted ever so slowly towards Lupin's dæmon while Tom kept his palm pressed against Harry's eye.

It was not what Harry expected to see.

A normal wolf stood in Naimh's place. She was no longer towering up to the height of Lupin's shoulder, instead she was at least a third of the height. Her snout shrunken and not nearly as fierce, in fact her deadly teeth, although still sharp, looked nothing in comparison. Not only that, but she was transparent and nothing of the bright light which Harry desired. How had he not noticed before.

Daemons were so flat compared to their true light.

"You see what dæmons can only sense," a heavy voice spoke.

"I-what?"

Lupin seemed to have recovered slightly as he propped himself back up. Even he was absent of the small dust which had previously clung to his skin. Lupin took an unsteady step towards his desk and pulled out a bar of chocolate which he snapped and placed a couple of pieces into his mouth.

"Daemons shy away from Niamh, they know that she is wrong and far more dangerous and deadly then she appears, and yet they cannot justify their actions because they can not see her true form. You can however-"

But it all made such twisted sense.

Sephronia had known Tom was wrong from the moment they met, but how could she have known that he wasn't a dæmon. And even in Riddle's memories, other dæmons had cowered from Nagini because they reacted subconsciously to her true threat. Would Harry be able to see something else, would he see the true nature of Voldemort's soul which was hidden to him now.

"I believe that a great deal of your desire for dæmons comes from your visual stimuli," Lupin croaked. "It was the same for me, as a werewolf I had such capabilities to smell and hunt dæmons, but as soon as their weren't any dæmons around my desires lessoned and I was somewhat tame. From what I've heard, you're relatively your own self when you're just around Tom. Which now makes a lot of sense-"

"What do you mean?"

Lupin nodded to them both as his eyes trailed over Tom's hand which still rested over Harry's dead eye.

"You can't see Tom," Lupin said.

"What's it to you?" Harry said, his voice suddenly cold.

Lupin held his hands up which were shaking slightly.

"It helps me understand, I just find it unusual that Tom is able to block out your visual stimuli completely though when nothing else will, which implies-"

"Implies what exactly?" Tom said coolly. His own wand was raised now, and Harry thought that this time Lupin would suffer the same fate as Snape.

"I told you so."

Harry twitched at the unfamiliar voice as Naimh prowled in front of Lupin. Her voice was lighter than he expected, and it didn't suit the nature of the beast inside of her.

"Tom isn't normal," Niamh said. "And if Harry can see me as I am, then what of Tom's true form-"

It happened so suddenly, Tom removed his hand from Harry's eye if only to better his position with his wand.

Niamh small transparent wolf form vanished in an instant, replaced by her mesmerising golden dust. It was instantaneous and Harry lost all reason. Harry lunged forwards, his darkness desperate for what should have been his. Tom had no time to even react to Niamh as his soul focus turned to Harry.

Not that it would have mattered, for Lupin had already acted. His want cutting down as Niamh's tempting form vanished as she became protected in her terrible cold light. Harry withdrew as if his withered hands were burning.

Tom stepped in front of him.

"Enough."

Lupin lowered his wand and Niamh flicked back into her more appealing state.

Harry made towards her but Tom curled his fingers tightly around Harry's wrist, holding him carefully in place with his soothingly hum.

"You were saying?" Tom tested.

But Niamh only growled in return and Lupin entwined his finger's into her mane.

"I think that is enough for today," Lupin said. "For now, I believe this has been a very promising start."

* * *

They walked briskly through the castle as rain lashed against the hundreds of windows. Tom pulled his cloak around himself as he attempted to hold off the growing chill in the drafty corridors, besides him Harry remained in just a long sleeved shirt, undisturbed from the sudden drop of temperature in the castle.

It was already a few days after Snape and Lupin's first lessons and Harry and Tom had already been visited in the early hours of the morning by a very grumpy auror. Harry hadn't expected to see Scrimgeour so soon but his presence however, had soon become clear enough.

"I don't want you to do it," Harry said as he walked after Tom. "What difference is it going to make, you should've just refused."

"It doesn't make any difference," Tom said offhandedly. "But it's a small price to pay to keep you safe."

Harry fixed Tom with a hard stare which only made Tom smile as they waited for the giant staircase to move.

"I was prepared to drink unicorn blood for you, Harry. A simple statement isn't anything comparable."

"I don't care," Harry said. "You shouldn't have to be there."

Tom stopped and spun around to take Harry's hands in his own. He ran his thumb over Harry's new layer of bandages.

"It's not like I'm swearing loyalty to anyone, I just have to make an appearance-"

"But why?" Harry stressed.

"It makes the Ministry more credible," Tom said. "If I can confirm that the Dark Lord is a separate entity to myself, that he has returned-"

"No," Harry interrupted. "Why would you care if people believed the Ministry? You're just doing it to piss off Voldemort."

Tom didn't deny it as a slight smile tugged at his lips as he stepped onto the now stationary staircase.

"I don't like it," Harry said as he followed. "The Ministry will think we're happy to cooperate."

"So what if they do?" Tom shrugged. "Let them believe it, the more relaxed they are around us the better."

"I don't think they're every going to be relaxed around us," Harry said bitterly.

"Around you, no," Tom agreed. "But they are already foolish enough to believe I am less of their enemy than Voldemort. If anything I should encourage this."

At Harry's dejected look Tom squeezed Harry's hand, staying his chilling influence.

"One day, I promise," Tom said.

Harry didn't comment on this, but his lips twitched slightly.

Tom now turned his attention back away from Harry as they approached their destination.

"Is there anyone you recognise?" Tom asked.

Harry eyes scanning over the dæmons in the Great Hall.

"Gracia, Nala, Itzel and Amabel are all there," Harry said as he eyed over the other half a dozen that he didn't recognise. "Oh, and Corin."

"Fudge, Scrimgeour, Moody and Kingsley," Tom ticked off on his fingers, before he frowned. "Who's is Corin?"

"Tonks, the Jack Rabbit," Harry said. "But the others I don' know, they'll be the reporters I guess."

"Dumbledore's probably there too," Tom added. "But no Fawkes."

"Shame," Harry muttered. "Although there's a bird that's not attached to anyone it looks like a crow or something."

"Another Death Eater?" Tom asked.

Harry shrugged.

"I guess so."

"Does the Ministry know you can spot Death Eaters?" Tom asked.

Harry shook his head.

"They know I can see dæmons but not their links which tie them to each other."

Tom shot him a sideways glance at this as they reached the bottom of the grand staircase.

"Good."

Scrimgeour and Snape were waiting for them in the Entrance Hall. Of course Harry had already known Laraine wouldn't be present but it didn't stop his disappointment, at least Nala was there to play with.

The cat hissed, his back arching, but she stayed obediently by Scrimgeour's side.

Scrimgeour cleared his throat when they arrived, while Snape already had his wand out as his dark eyes watched Harry cautiously.

"Ready?" Scrimgeour asked gruffly.

Tom nodded, whilst Harry watched Nala.

"Just don't say anything about Potter," Scrimgeour said. "If anyone asks you directly, you're to say only that he's safe and in the Ministry's care. Do you understand?"

Tom nodded, as he slipped his hand out of Harry's.

"Perfectly."

Scrimgeour opened his mouth, it looked like he wanted to say something else, instead he shut it again and only nodded, beckoning Tom to follow him.

"Don't go too far," Tom warned as Harry was left with a dæmonless Snape.

"Have fun," Harry muttered as he stared longingly at the assortment of dæmons.

* * *

Snape had been insufferable. He'd already knocked Harry out a couple of times, firstly because Harry was not cooperating and had ended up frosting the room over a dozen times as he screamed at Snape and secondly because Harry had attempted on more than once occasion to rip the door apart just to get to the dæmons.

It didn't help that Tom was right on the other side. Harry wanted him back now, he didn't like being alone with Snape hissing at him to clear his mind. Not after everything that had happened.

Tom's emotions had been relatively stable, his own control impeccable as he was forced to contest with Harry's own erratic actions. Harry knew he wouldn't be making it easier for Tom, but right now he just didn't care.

He wanted dæmons, he wanted Tom, and Snape was getting more and more furious with him when Harry didn't even try settling.

It truly felt like an age before the door opened and Tom appeared. He looked oddly tired as he blinked at the sudden temperature drop in the room.

Harry was by his side in an instant.

"How did it go?" Harry pressed.

But Tom didn't bother answering at first, if anything he just slotted his arms around Harry's waist as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

"Fine," Tom said. "Rita Skeeter was there but I couldn't see her dæmon."

Harry's dead eye roamed back to where the dozen or so guests were now mingling in the next room. The dæmons had now split into groups. The Minister was currently talking to whoever the unattached crow dæmon belonged to.

There was still a few unidentified dæmons but they weren't inconspicuous. Then Harry saw it, a link which was just as strong as the others, but the creature was so small that they were barely visible. Harry couldn't make out what animal it was from this distance.

"September 1st," Tom said suddenly, jolting Harry from his thoughts.

Harry frowned, his head tilting as he waited.

Tom sighed, and he didn't look very happy.

"That's when the dementors will start guarding Hogwarts, when term starts," Tom said. "It's also your deadline for proving to the Ministry you're stable enough."

"Right," Harry said. That only left them a few weeks at best. He didn't want to think what would happen otherwise.

"We should move on then," Snape said.

Harry jumped, he'd forgotten the professor was there.

"You want to do Occulumency now?" Harry asked.

"You've been failing to clear your mind for over two hours, Potter," Snape snapped, his own patience had clearly been pushed to his limit. "I would like to attempt to make some progress now that Tom has returned, you might actually be able to achieve something."

Harry glared at him, but Tom only nodded. Snape stood, as he gestured for them to follow.

Harry stared longingly back at the dæmons still lingering in the hall, but Tom pulled his hand, as they made their way back down into the dungeons.

* * *

The pensieve was still resting on Snape's desk and a large selection of the once previously present potions were now missing. Only a few bottles remained.

"You destroyed most of my stock," Snape's expression was fierce when he noticed Harry looking. "I would have you make the entire batch again but I actually need someone who has the slight competency at potions to do it."

Harry was going to retort but Tom squeezed his hand, as he shot him a look as if not to bother.

Snape waved his wand and two chairs dragged themselves across the stone floor. They stopped, facing each other but only a few spaces apart.

"Sit," Snape instructed.

Harry and Tom opposite each other, they were so close that their knees were almost touching.

"Professor Lupin informed me you made some progress regarding what triggers you," Snape said.

"So I don't need Occulumency if Tom can do it for me," Harry said. Besides he didn't want to stop looking at dæmons.

Snape sneered at this.

"Whatever means Tom has found of stabilising yourself is weak. You need to create a block against your own desires, Potter. Hide them from even yourself," Snape said. "You are fortunate enough that you have something more direct to work towards, for a beginner it will mean you do not have to master the whole subject."

At Harry's lack of reaction Tom squeezed his hand.

"Basically, you need to learn to shut out your demented eye," Tom clarified. "Teach yourself not to look instead of disarming your desire for dæmons completely."

"Right," Harry said bitterly.

Snape prowled around them, his own wand raised as if ready to attack at a single moment.

"Most witches and wizards do not have any trouble shutting out their minds while keeping their dæmon's connection in tact. As Tom's technique is perfect, I can only assume that it is because he is not your true soul which is causing complications."

Harry bristled at this.

"So you're saying that even if I learn Occulumency, there's still a chance I'll block out Tom?"

"Potentially," Snape agreed. "However, I believe there is still a way...you both have to do it together. Now, take each others hands."

Tom linked his fingers lightly in Harry's withered own. They had barely a second to prepare.

_"Legilimens."_

Harry had barely blinked as their memories swarmed.

They were five, watching Dudley tear into his huge pile of Christmas presents while Tom tried to sneak one of the presents away for Harry to open later...they were nine and locked in their cupboard tangled up with each other as Uncle Vernon hammered on their cupboard door...they were sitting under a tree in the Dursley's garden and Tom was throwing a stone to scare off one of Mrs Figg's cats...they were in the guillotine, locked and separated in the small metal cages and the blade was rising higher and higher-

No.

It was Tom, his mind slamming down, closing off in an instant, but he didn't separate them. Instead, his wand was cutting down, shutting off Snape's curse with one of his own.

Snape didn't look unperturbed however, he seemed oddly satisfied with Tom as his cool gaze drifted to Harry.

"You actually have to contribute, Potter," Snape sneered.

"I'm trying," Harry snapped. "I still don't know what I'm supposed to be doing-"

Tom squeezed his hand gently.

"Just follow my lead, relax okay?"

But Harry didn't want to see the guillotine again, he already visited it enough in his nightmares.

"Again."

Snape was readying his own wand, giving Harry no chance to prepare.

_"Legilimens."_

They were seven and Harry was leaning on Tom's shoulder as their primary school teacher wrote down something on the blackboard...it was a year ago and Harry was standing next to Draco as they cheered at the Falcon and Magpie Quidditch match...and then everything shifted.

It was as if a blanket had descended, had enclosed Harry and Tom as the memories shifted. But this wasn't like before, where Snape's office suddenly materialised before them. Instead, the room was morphing to white, a location that was painfully familiar.

St Mungo's and the Mirror of Erised with the reflection so clear as Tom cradled Lyra tightly to his chest...and then Riddle was knelt before Harry as he pressed the diary into Harry's hands. Riddle's handsome smile urging Harry to write as he threaded his fingers through Harry's hair.

No.

But Riddle was already tugging Harry into his arms as he murmured something softly in Harry's ear.

No.

Harry wanted it to stop, he didn't want Tom to see. Ice crept across Harry's own view, it was slow at first before snapping across the memory.

Harry burnt with embarrassment as Snape's office came rushing back.

Several of the remaining potion bottles had exploded, their substances suspended in frozen bursts above their heads.

But Harry sought out Tom first, only to be pulled back to Snape who was standing uncomfortably close.

"For a beginner, that was not completely awful," Snape said. "Particularly after your abysmal control this afternoon. But you let me get in to deep. You lost control. However, it appears Tom managed to shut me out while keeping you in, Potter."

Harry was barely listening as he tried to steal a glance at Tom, who was very purposely looking the other way. This is what he'd feared.

Snape raised his wand again.

"Again."

Harry slammed his eyes shut, but this time Tom made no movement to link their hands back together. Harry couldn't let Tom see that again.

But Snape was already raising his wand, slashing it forwards as Harry was sunk back into his memories.

It truly felt like an age before Snape finally stopped. Harry was shaking, his own body felt so weak as Tom was forced to watch Riddle's hands claiming Harry as if he was his own soul.

"I want you back here same time on Wednesday. We will continue then."

Snape's words washed in and out of Harry's ears as his head spun. For the first time, Harry was relieved that the dæmons above had now vanished, it was oddly eerie how void the castle now looked, but at least they wouldn't distract him.

Tom stood abruptly and walked right past him, not waiting for Harry to catch up as he made his way out of Snape's office.

* * *

Harry stepped into the common room, his own throat uncomfortably tight.

Tom hadn't said a word the whole way, if anything he'd started to hang back, his eyes unfocussed as he automatically placed one foot in front of the other.

"Tom, I-" Harry started. He should have listened and tried harder to talk the other day. Of course it wasn't fair on Tom, Harry had been with Riddle for so long, it was unreasonable to expect Tom to be okay with it, let alone to witness Harry's own betrayal first hand.

"Riddle was the only thing I had left," Harry blurted out. "With you and Lyra gone I had to, even though I didn't want to-"

Tom looked up, his eyebrows knitting together. He looked tired, more exhausted than Harry had remembered, but that didn't stop the sudden delirious smile that burst onto Tom's face.

"Tom-" Harry faltered. "A...are you okay?"

"I saw her," Tom breathed, as he presented his own hands before him. "She was right there in my arms-"

Tom wasn't making any sense. He was practically beaming from ear to ear, and Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd known Tom to be so genuinely happy.

"What are you-"

And then Harry remembered. Riddle wasn't the only thing revealed in his memories.

"You saw Lyra?"

Tom nodded, his eyes shinning as he threw his arms around Harry, pulling him down into one of the large squashy sofa's. Tom's breath washed over Harry's, but it wasn't distracting, Tom's happiness was too strong that even Harry's instincts were lessoned.

"It's like I'm seeing you," Tom said as his smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Seeing your soul, she's perfect-"

Harry looked down, his own expression falling as he stared at his broken link to Lyra and the light spilling from his absent heart but Tom caught his chin, pulling Harry's gaze back up to his own.

"You'll get her back, Harry," Tom said softly. "If you can master Occulumency then nothing is stopping you, you know where she is, we can find her-"

Harry wound his own hands into Tom's, locking their fingers tightly together. Tom looked so pale in comparison to Harry's blackened dead skin.

If he had a heart it would have ached, why was their future so uncertain.

"And if I do get Lyra back," Harry asked. "What will the Ministry do with you?"

But Tom was undeterred as he shrugged.

"Someone's got to keep you in check, anyway, the Ministry know I'm not going to return to Voldemort, not while I have you."

Harry sat back, his shoulder's sagging as he pulled ever so slightly away from Tom.

"That's why you did what Scrimgeour wanted," Harry said. "You want them to trust you."

Hot anger washed through Harry and suddenly his hands were clenched, curled in Tom's shirt.

"It's not fair," Harry snapped. "I won't let them take you. I'll destroy anyone who so much as touches you."

Tom shook his head, his eyes alight with sad amusement as he pulled his arms tight around Harry.

"You need Lyra back, Harry. Don't worry about what the Ministry will do to me, we'll jump that hurdle when we get to it."

Harry nodded thickly, the other issue still handing heavily in his mind. He knew they should discuss Riddle, should do it now while it was fresh, while Harry had the courage to tell Tom everything, but Tom was still caught up with Lyra, his own smile so genuine as he held Harry close that Harry couldn't bring himself to speak.


	33. Chapter Thirty Three

**_HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS_ **

_Cornelius Fudge, Minister for Magic announced at a special address yesterday that the Dark Lord,_  
_who previously terrorised the wizarding community for eleven years has returned. The recent Death Eater  
attack on St Pancras... _

__

Harry tore his gaze away from the text to stare at a photo of Tom taken the day before. Tom was standing in front of some sort of lectern which had a dozen floating quills scribbling away in front of him. Fudge and Scrimgeour were positioned just behind him. Harry skimmed over the rest of the article before his eyes settled on a section which was printed in slightly smaller text. 

__

_It has been confirmed that Tom Riddle, the dæmon attached to Harry Potter, is only a fragment of_  
_the Dark Lords predominant soul. Head Auror, Rufus Scrimgeour, explained that this information has_  
_been known to the Auror Department for awhile, however, it has only been deemed necessary to inform_  
_the public now due to the imminent threat that the return of the Dark Lord now poses.  
_

_‘It was one reason which influenced our decision to allow Tom Riddle to attend Hogwarts with_  
_Harry Potter,’ Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge said. 'Given that Tom Riddle was merely a child with_  
_no crimes committed, it was only natural to allow his support to Potter to continue.' Read more about  
Harry Potter and Tom Riddle on Page 4. _

Harry flicked the page, only to find a heading which took up half the page.

_**HARRY POTTER AND TOM RIDDLE ALIVE AND WELL** _

_It has been confirmed that both Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are safe and are now back in the care_  
_of Albus Dumbledore who was named their primary guardian two years ago. The Ministry however, are_  
_keeping tight lipped about what went on at Hogwarts last year, which was temporary closed after the_  
_death of a student, Zoe Westwark [dæmon: Noah] and the disappearance of Harry Potter and Tom Riddle.  
_

_'The matter is confidential,' the famous wizard catcher, Alastor Moody said. 'Potter is now secure and_  
_that's all you need to know.' Speculation about Mr Potter's current condition has only been reinforced_  
_as he was suspiciously not present at the Minister's address on the return of He Who Must Not be Named.  
_

_Tom Riddle, who was present, spoke briefly when queried about his position on his main soul. 'My_  
_loyalty is with Harry only,' said Tom Riddle, although when pressed further Tom was adamant that Mr_  
_Potter’s loyalty does not lie with the Dark Lord.  
_

_The Ministry continue to remind the public to look out for Harry Potters true dæmon, which has_  
_been identified to most likely be in the form of a pine marten. Although, Amelia Stoutworth, a healer at_  
_St Mungo's explained that it is likely that Harry Potter's dæmon could take the form of any animal. 'It is_  
_uncommon, but in those rare circumstances where a child temporarily loses their dæmon, their soul_  
_distorts, allowing the dæmon to chose what form is most appropriate at that time. This could explain_  
_why the Ministry has failed for two years to locate Harry Potter's dæmon.'  
_

__

_An exclusive update with Rita Skeeter has been arranged with Harry Potter and Tom Riddle which  
will be published ahead of Hogwarts reopening on 1st September. _

__

__

Another photograph was printed beneath; it was the one taken just after Lyra had left. Harry traced his withered hand over the photo as Tom's image smiled slightly as he tugged Harry's own image close. It was odd to see Harry's own face untarnished, to see his pale skin unblemished from decay. Even the fact that both of his own green eyes looked back at him made Harry feel oddly detached. Harry tore his single good eye away to focus on the next heading.

_**MINISTRY GUARANTEES STUDENTS SAFETY** _

__

_The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, spoke about the tough new measures taken by his_  
_Ministry to ensure the safety of students returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_  
_this autumn.  
_

__

__

_'For obvious reasons, the Ministry will not be going into every detail about its stringent_  
_new security plans," said the Minister, although an insider confirmed that measures include_  
_defensive spells and charms, a complex array of counter curses, and the use of dementors who_  
_will be guarding the parameter. Professor Dumbledore has assured all those concerned parents  
that the dementors will be a safeguard given the strategic position the castle holds... _

Harry flicked the page, dislodging a purple leaflet emblazoned with the words - Issued on Behalf of the Ministry for Magic PROTECTING YOUR HOME AND FAMILY AGAINST DARK FORCES, beneath this another blazing headline spanned across the page.

_**BLACK UNREGISTERED ANIMAGUS** _

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is an_  
_unregistered animagus, Head Auror Rufus Scrimgeour confirmed today. 'We are doing all we can to_  
_locate Black and Mintaka, of course, we have a significant advantage now we understand how Black_  
_has been eluding capture. I am also confident that the security measures at Azkaban remain adequate_  
_with regards to the remaining prisoners. We are certain that no other Death Eaters will escape. We_  
_have naturally however, increased the security given the imminent threat that an attack on Azkaban is  
likely.' _

__

_____ _

__

_Minister Fudge has been criticised by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks_  
_for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the current crisis. 'Well, really, I had to, don't you know,' said_  
_an irritable Fudge. 'Specially after that stunt Black pulled at St Pancras, the sheer amount of Muggles we_  
_had to sort out, we had the whole of the department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes working_  
_around the clock just to fix the damage. If we hadn't of had the Prime Minister's cooperation, the whole_  
_incident could have been a lot more complicated. Not to forget that now with the return of He Who Must  
Not Be Named, it is vital we have the full cooperation of the Muggle authorities for any emergent issues.' _

____

_____ _

__

_While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand which Muggles_  
_use to kill each other), the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when  
Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse. _

__

A large poster of Sirius Black and his dæmon covered nearly the whole page. It was clearly an old photo, taken before Black's imprisonment, and although Mintaka looked just as ferocious as the first time Harry had seen her, her form wasn't nearly as wispy. She was untouched from the terrors of dementors and held such a wild beauty. Even Black, who had looked like a ghost at St Pancras was bursting with energy, with eyes full of such angry pain.

Beneath this, there was a small section noting a list of wanted death eaters. Lucius Malfoy's portrait was about an eighth of the size of Black's, with a small printed title which read - Malfoy Manor raided for Dark Artefacts.

Harry set the paper on his knees and looked across at Tom who was studying a blue leaflet on defensive spells. Tom had his wand held high before he cleared his throat. A shimmer of light flicked around where Harry sat on the squashy Gryffindor sofa, but whatever effect it was supposed to have wasn't clear. Tom lowered the wand with a frown as he noticed Harry's stare.

Harry chewed his tongue as he decided to take the plunge.

"They didn't mention Riddle," he said.

Tom shrugged and waved his wand again as this time the shimmer of light flicked around the both of them.

"They'll be enough panic to know that Voldemort has returned, let alone that I'm not the only piece of his soul running about," Tom said.

"And what do they mean an interview with me? Scrimgeour never mentioned-" Harry said.

Tom smiled and this time he lowered his wand as he scanned the blue leaflet for another spell.

"That's because he didn't agree to it. Rita Skeeter was pretty insistent yesterday that she wanted an exclusive chat with us both, she said her readers had a right to know how their favourite young wizard was doing."

Harry's brow furrowed at this.

"You agree?"

"It's better than everyone turning up at Hogwarts and writing back to their parents about how you're going to eat their precious dæmons-"

Tom stopped, his attention diverted suddenly towards the common room window. Hedwig was perched against the glass, and next to her was a smaller owl Harry hadn't seen for a long time. Tom flicked his wand causing the glass pane to swing in its bracket.

Hedwig spread her wings and glided across the room, coming to land elegantly on the top of the sofa, while the ruffled grey coloured of sort owl fell into the room before it hopped ungracefully across the floor. Hedwig had a large brown parcel attached to her leg which Harry hurried to untie. Wrapped around it was a small piece of paper with a neat familiar scrawl.

_Harry, Tom,_

_Thank goodness you're both safe, the Daily Prophet was so vague; it didn't say anything about_  
_what had happened to either of you. It was terrifying when you disappeared as well Harry, I assume_  
_you went to look for Tom? Although you really shouldn't have just disappeared like that. I'd_  
_never seen Dumbledore look so worried. What happened? I've been researching as much as I_  
_can at home but the only things that are capable of taking a dæmon away are of the darkest  
sort of curses._

 _At least the Ministry have finally acknowledged that Tom isn't solely You Know Who. That has to_  
_count for something. It should hopefully alleviate the focus on Tom at least. Although it's terrifying_  
_he managed to regain his body, did you know what happened to Quirrell, the paper didn't  
say anything about him._

 _I'm going to Diagon Alley with my parents week after next, I think Ron's going too, it would be lovely_  
_to see you both if you can make it, especially after this long. Have you decided what classes you're  
going to be taking? I hope they don't hold you back from going into third year._

 _I'm sorry I missed your birthday – I think Tom will like your present, it's a book on external spells_  
_I actually picked up awhile ago. It teaches you how to set up your own parameters to guard  
against intruders._

_Looking forward to seeing you soon._

_Please be careful, both of you._

_Hermione_

_Harry - You never said Lyra was a pine marten. I can't decide whether I'm surprised_  
_or not. I guess I'm just so used to you having Tom. Ramiron was convinced you'd have some sort  
of deer or something, I think he's a bit put out that Lyra's more like Adara though..._

Tom ripped into the parcel to reveal the small neatly bound book which had a large glowing circle on its front. Harry meanwhile turned his attention back to the straggly looking owl who promptly tipped over with its leg held out. He took it tentatively, very aware that no letter had arrived from Draco, but in all honesty Harry hadn't expected one.

_Harry,_

_I knew it! I knew you were alive. Why didn't you write sooner? I bet Scrimgeour's being_  
_a right pain. Mum was over the moon when they said you were safe, do you think you'll be  
able to visit properly this time? My dad said that you had the whole castle to yourself, is that true?_

_How did you find Tom then? There was so much panic when you disappeared, we were locked  
in the common room for days while they searched the castle, but you probably know that now. _

_How the bloody hell You Know Who get his body back? I thought he was still stuck on the back_  
_of Quirrell's head. I hope he doesn't try to do you in again. Although I guess he'll be getting_  
_more concerned at getting Tom away from Dumbledore. Dad said you'll be safe at Hogwarts,  
but that's where you went missing in the first place..._

_We're going to get school supplies in a couple of weeks, so you could come and stay then. You Know Who_  
_won't suspect you're not at school. Do you know what extra classes you're going to be taking?  
Hermione keeps going on about Runes, but I can't think of anything worse._

_Btw I can't believe your dæmon is a pine marten. Although I won a couple of galleon's  
from Fred and George, they bet your dæmon was a dragon._

_Ron,_

_P.S Sephronia says hello btw._

Harry's throat was oddly dry and scratchy as he reread the two letters. He hadn't given much thought to anyone else, or what they would think of him now. Harry itched to reach into his pocket and withdraw Riddle's parchment, just to see if any fresh words had appeared.

"Harry?"

Tom lent over Harry's shoulder, peering down to see what was causing Harry so much concern.

"I'm never going to be ready," Harry said quietly. There was no way either that Dumbledore would let them out of the castle for a day in Diagon Alley, not when the promise of returning back to school was still so far off.

"You've still got plenty of time," Tom said, although his smile didn't meet his eyes as he picked up Hermione's letter. "Snape stopped shouting at you yesterday so you must be making progress."

"That's because Snape knows I'm a lost cause," Harry said quietly. "I tried to attack Niamh twice in Professor Lupin's last lesson."

"Which is half the amount as the previous," Tom said as he gave Harry's hand a small squeeze. "You're getting better."

"Am I?" Harry said as his withered hands clenched around Tom's own as his absent heart ached. "I think about dæmons all the time, Tom. I just don't know how to control it...I don't want to stop-"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but this wasn't enough to hold his attention fully on Tom. He couldn't pretend anymore. A flicker of the purest light pulsed in Harry's periphery, the same light which had been dancing so enticingly for the past half an hour, ever since she'd entered the castle.

"Harry?"

Harry tore his eye open; Tom was staring at him, his elbow pressed against the top of the squashy armchair as he twisted a strand of Harry's hair between his fingers.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"You said it's less distracting when they're further away," Tom muttered.

"It usually is," Harry said. "But it's harder when there's more than one-"

Another flicker and this time Harry's attention was completely stolen from Tom. Tom's brow furrowed as he turned to look in the direction that had captured Harry's attention.

"Nala," Harry breathed, answering Tom's silent question. "She's with Niamh."

Tom sat back at this, his hand falling to his side as an odd look crossed his face. Tom seemed to be deliberating something before he spoke softly.

"What does Scrimgeour want with Lupin?"

Harry gazed longingly in their direction as he shook his head slowly.

"No idea. Scrimgeour had plenty of opportunity yesterday."

Tom squeezed Harry's hand and he flashed a daring smile.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

* * *

Harry and Tom tiptoed the last few meters down the corridor which led to Lupin's office. They ignored a knight who was clunking along in the adjacent portraits. He was brandishing an oversized sword while shouting at his dæmon, a fat pony, which pranced along ahead of him.

Tom stopped just outside and peered around the door that was slightly ajar, not that that mattered, Harry could see Nala and Niamh perfectly and the thin dust layer which clung around Lupin's form showed that he was positioned just behind his desk.

Harry itched forwards, until Tom caught Harry's waist with one hand and slipped his other over Harry's right eye. It was like a blanket as Harry's desires diminished. No longer was he itching to hunt, instead he pressed further into Tom, savouring the odd peace as Nala and Niamh temporarily vanished from sight.

"I already explained everything to Dumbledore," Lupin's voice drifted into the corridor. His voice sounded strained and Harry could hear Niamh growing.

Scrimgeour's boots clicked across the stone floor and for a moment Harry thought he was heading towards the door. Instead, he stopped abruptly, his toe tapping twice as he said in his usual gruff voice.

"I want to hear it from you," Scrimgeour said.

"There's nothing more to say," Lupin said before his voice raised slightly. "Yes, I knew Sirius Black was an unregistered animagis, but I didn't think it was relevant, he'd been in Azkaban for nearly twelve years."

"Not relevant," Scrimgeour's laugh was cruel. "The most notorious Death Eater breaks out of prison and you still didn't see fit to inform anyone about his little trick, did you give no thought to the consequences?"

"What does it matter now?" Lupin said, his voice sounded oddly stiff. "Dumbledore is satisfied that Harry is safe at Hogwarts."

There was a distinct cold laugh at this.

"Is he?" Scrimgeour said. "Funnily enough, I only count half of Potter, well...technically less than half."

Tom grip tightened at this, his nails digging into Harry's dead flesh but it was Niamh's deep rumbling growl which echoed into the corridor.

"Sirius has as much chance of finding Lyra as you do," Lupin retorted sharply. "And we all know how much success you've had. Lost dæmons stay lost-"

"Until they want to be found," Scrimgeour added. "Although, Black does have a distinct advantage."

There was another deliberate pause at this and Harry ached to see Nala and Niamh again, just to gauge their reactions.

"Lyra won't reveal herself to Sirius," Lupin said, although there was something distinctly off about his tone. "She has no reason to-"

"Hmm," Scrimgeour said, the disbelief in his voice was apparent. "There is enough of a connection wouldn't you agree?"

The pause was notable and Harry couldn't help but steal a confused glance at Tom who was listening with rapt attention.

"Harry doesn't know anything about Sirius-" Lupin started.

"He knows that Black is targeting him," Scrimegour grunted. "But of course if Black is unarmed he shouldn't have a chance-"

Lupin made a strange noise.

"You would let Harry destroy him-"

"If Tom doesn't kill him first- you're looking a little pale Remus, not feeling sentimental for an old friend?"

This time Tom did look towards Harry, his own mouth parting slightly as if to say something, but Lupin was already responding.

"They are both children," he said. "I would not see either of them drawn into this."

"They are a part of this war whether they like it or not," Scrimgeour said. "Although perhaps Potter would've been better off if Black had killed him at St Pancras-"

Tom jerked abruptly at that, his fingers slipping slightly from Harry's eye in a single moment of fury. Harry gasped his own giddiness genuine as Nala and Niamh appeared in a sudden burst of light. Tom had no time to rectify his mistake as Harry shifted forwards.

"Harry-" Tom hissed.

But it was too late.

Harry had already pushed the office door wide open to come face to face with two suddenly aggressive dæmons.

Niamh was snarling, her teeth braced with her hind legs ready to pounce. Nala although minuscule in comparison looked just as livid as she hissed, her back arched with her claws drawn. Tom was back by Harry's side in an instant, his hand skirting upwards to his face, but he froze short of covering Harry's eye as Scrimgeour's wand itched in his hand, a curse half way on his lips as Harry's movement halted.

There was a moment's silence, a second where Harry was poised to attack, held only by Tom's invisible restraint, his fingers digging into Harry's flesh, almost tearing away his flaking decayed skin. Scrimgeour however only straightened his robes as his gaze seared across Tom's wand and his tight hold on Harry.

"Fully in control, you said?" Scrimgeour said coolly as he fixed Lupin with a very hard stare. In response, Nala slunk forwards, deliberately slowly as dust swirled around her form that Harry's breath hitched, his own body tugging against Tom's unrelenting hold as Lupin stepped ever so slightly to stand between Harry, Tom and Scrimgeour.

"Considering the brief time that Harry has had to adapt he's reacted very positively to his initial lessons," Lupin said as he gave a weak smile. "Harry was probably startled by Nala's presence-"

Scirmegour's eyes moved directly to settle on Harry whose dead eye didn't waver from Nala and Niamh.

"Of course, the start is always going to be rocky," Lupin continued as he wrung his hands together. "But as I've said yesterday, I am fully confident that Harry will be ready when term starts-"

"Really?" Scrimgeour said lightly. Harry really didn't like the grimace which was crossing over Scrimgeour's face as Nala's large slit eyes lingered solely on Harry.

Tom's own grip hadn't lessened on Harry's arm, in fact it seemed that all of his restraint and desperation was coursing into Harry, urging him not to move an inch. Tom remained tight lipped as his eyes darted between the two wizards. 

"A lot can change in a month," Lupin continued. "Harry has the potential to be more than capable, you said it yourself."

The auror had a grim expression on his face as he withdrew a golden pocket watch, he clicked it open as Nala slunk back to his side.

"I did, however, there has been a change in circumstance," Scrimgeour said without looking up from his watch. "I had planned on calling past Dumbledore's office, but given that Potter is here-"

Harry felt a stab of foreboding flash across from Tom, but it wasn't enough to solely steal his attention away from Niamh and Nala, that was reserved for Scrimgeour’s next sentence. 

"Fudge has decided to remove Potter from the castle."

It shouldn't have been a surprise, it was inevitable really. Harry and Tom's future had been nothing but a pipe dream, they had been foolish to think that they had any chance of a normal life, but Scrimgeour’s words still cut deep. Every inch of Harry's skin, decayed or the otherwise patchy remains had gone slightly numb. Even hot unfiltered anger, direct from Tom wasn't enough to scratch his absent heart.

"Well when you've made up your minds what you want to do with us-" Tom spat. 

But Scrimgeour was undeterred as Nala battered her tail side to side, her tabby eyes unchanging.

"You're a delicate situation," Scrimgeour said. "Any wrong action can result in devastating consequences; you should know this more than anyone."

Tom looked deadly, not missing the jibe as his wand itched in his hand, but Harry couldn't react, his throat tight as his darkness pooled inside of him. 

“If Fudge wants to use me as leverage over Voldemort he should just go ahead and do it,” Tom said. “He needs to stop pretending he gives a damn about what happens to Harry-”

Scrimgeour actually had the audacity to smirk at this, his stained teeth matching Nala’s own as she hissed, her fur sticking up on end.

"Fudge would be right to do so, the threat of the Dark Lord is rising every day and we’ve yet to gain any understanding on his initial movements," Scrimgeour admitted gruffly. "However, Fudge is not a forgiving man, and the Dark Lord is not his only enemy.”

Tom rolled his eyes at this but Scrimgeour continued regardless.

“Fudge is acting in spite after Dumbledore removed you from St Mungo's."

Niamh lowered her snout and growled as she raised her front paw. One swipe was all she needed to tear Nala apart, but she remained obediently still as Lupin weaved his fingers through her scruff.

"Dumbledore will not allow it," Lupin said sharply. "Harry is under his charge."

Scrimgeour's next words sent chills though Harry.

"Not for much longer."

"What do you mean?" Tom asked as his own nails bit deep into Harry’s dead skin.

"The Minister has asked the Wizengamot to revoke Dumbledore's guardianship over you and place you under custody of the Ministry," Scrimgeour said coolly.

"Can he do that?" Lupin asked. 

Scrimgeour shrugged, his sudden nonchalance apparent as Nala retreated, her large bushy tail batting back and forth once again.

"He can certainly try." 

At their puzzled looks Scrimgeour continued.

"Fudge is adamant that Potter cannot be saved under any circumstance. All he needs to do if convince the Wizengamot that Potter is too dangerous to integrate back into society."

"Ah, I see," Lupin said as be pinched the bridge of his nose. "And Harry needs to demonstrate otherwise."

Scrimgeour nodded before he fixed his hard yellowish eyes on Harry.

"People don't want to give up on you, Potter, specially given the current circumstances. However, the Wizengamot will unanimously side with Fudge if you so much waver in your resolve. You won't get another chance."

Harry flicked his haunted expression across to Scrimgeour, savouring Nala's discomfort as the ginger tabby clung to Scrimgour's side.

"I won't need one," Harry said coolly.

There was a moment when Tom's hand squeezed tightly in Harry's own, clearly agitated, but the auror was satisfied enough.

"Good." Scrimgeour clicked his watch closed suddenly. "I expect you to be ready first thing tomorrow morning, you can demonstrate your _perfect_ control to Fudge and to the Wizengamot."

Now that certainly caught everyone's attention. Tom tensed as he took half a step forwards, but Niamh cut across him with a deep growl as her dust swirled towards Nala. It was too much. There was nothing which could stop the rising darkness inside of Harry. It was swelling, rising exponentially as it burst to the surface. Tom was helpless, his will alone defenceless against Harry's raging chill. 

The room plunged into cold, Harry's influence casting out like an angry shadow as he took a single rattling breath. Nala hissed, her back arching as Scrimgeour raised an eyebrow almost as if daring Harry to move. But Tom's grip reacted just as quickly, his own wand twitching as his soothing lull barely held Harry at bay.

"That's not realistic-" Lupin started. "Surely a few more days-"

"The Minister is adament this will go ahead tomorrow," Scrimgeour said. "If Potter isn't stable enough now, then I'm not convinced a few days is going to change anything."

Lupin's eyes were creased as he ran his hand over his face. Niamh brushed against his side but it did little to settle the pure terror that was seeping into Harry.

But there was nothing they could say to protest. Tom's hand was clenched around Harry's hand, their fear mixture of them both. If Harry hadn't known better, he'd have said the auror looked disappointed.

Scimgeour's eyes swept over Harry and Tom for one final time, before he left without another word.

Tom's steel like grip loosened without any resistance, his fingers slackening as his knees gave way. Harry didn't need any further incentive. He twisted towards Niamh, Harry's darkness was so cold and unyielding as Niamh had no choice but to flick to white.

There was nothing Harry could do. Niamh was suddenly untouchable and so terribly close as cords sprouted from Lupin's wand, curling around Harry's wrists and ankles as they cut deep into his rotting flesh.

Harry twisted against his restraints, snarling as he yanked his arms forwards, but Niamh's form was dominating and unrelenting as waves of pure power vibrated through Harry.

Lupin was next to Tom in an instant, his hand hovering just above his forehead as his own wand scanned carefully across his body. Harry winced, his breathing hard against his chest as Niamh held any gap between him and Tom.

"Leave him," Harry gasped. His head dizzy and his vision blurred as he staggered.

But Lupin ignored him as Niamh stood guard.

"What happened?" Lupin asked.

Tom shook his head, his eyes scrunching up as he pulled his arms tight around his chest.

It never used to be this hard, Tom had always managed to hold Harry's desires off, to some extent at least and with Snape's Occulumency lessons they'd not had a problem connecting in weeks. But something was terrible wrong, Tom was deadly pale, weakened more so from Niamh's onslaught on Harry. Tom's hands were trembling, his whole composure broken as he whispered.

"How many members are there in the Wizengamot?"  


Harry's own memories flew back to first year, but everything had been such a blur. Tom had been the only one who mattered then, he'd barely paid enough attention to how many people there were.  


"At least fifty," Lupin said hoarsely.  


There was no hiding Tom's pained expression as he shook his head.  


"Fifty- fifty dæmons?"  


They were the same people that had voted to put Harry and Tom in that guillotine, who had wanted to tear them apart. Harry's anger pooled as his frustration towards Niamh grew all the more deadly. Harry would destroy them all.  


"Can you hold Harry, keep him stable?" Lupin asked.

Tom's eyes blinked open as his desperate gaze found Harry's. Harry's absent heart pulsed, his breath harrowing and his darkness recoiled against Niamh's shield.

"What's the point?" Harry snapped. "Everyone has already decided I'm a monster, there's nothing Tom can do to change it."

Harry hadn't expected Lupin to react as much as he did. His shoulders sagged, his brow creasing. Even Niamh withdrew slightly, her usual beast like form flickering as she sunk back towards Lupin.

"Harry, you're a human," Lupin stressed as he turned his attention from Tom. "Regardless of what Fudge thinks-"

"Why aren't you listening?" Harry hissed as the coldness spiralled around his body, the stone floor surrounding him now covered in a frost as Harry drew a rattled breath. "All I want to do right now is rip Niamh apart and do you know what, I'd enjoy it. I know I would, I crave it."

"Harry-" Lupin started his mouth wide in horror. "You need to stop and think. This isn't what you want."

Niamh growled, her hind legs raised as if ready to attack.

"We just need to get through tomorrow," Lupin continued urgently. "Even if that only buys you another week or so, you've already made so much progress-"

Harry kept his dead eye fixed firmly on Lupin as his lips curled into a sadistic smile.

"Which means nothing," Harry said as he held bandaged withered hands before him. "Before the darkness overpowered me, now it belongs to me. Why should I deny what I am?"

"But you've made so much progress-" Lupin's voice was strained, his own eyes full of despair, that even Niamh in her ferocious form ducked down to nudge him gently.

"So what?" Harry seethed, "You think I should be disgusted at being demented, that I should hate myself like you did, because you have to lie to yourself, you just can't accept that you are a monster."

Harry had never seen Lupin angry before but something had clearly shifted.

Lupin stood abruptly, his face set with a frosty look as he jerked his wand sharply downwards. In response Niamh pulled back allowing Harry's chest to loosen.

"Get Severus. Now."

Niamh didn't need to be told twice. Her claws scratched the floor as her hind legs pushed her with such a fierce strength that her very presence vanished from Lupin's office.

Harry's attention wavered, not caring that Niamh was gone despite her usual tether to Lupin. The dust like particles still clung to Lupin's skin, untouched from whatever magic he had cast. Harry grinned, his new target chosen as he tugged against his restraints as he relished Lupin's open fear.

Beside Lupin, Tom stood slowly. He didn't quite meet Harry's gaze as he took an unsteady step towards him.

"Harry-"

But Tom didn't get very far. Lupin thrust out his arm, blocking Tom's path.

"You need to put a stop to this now," Lupin practically growled at Tom. "Harry can't do this otherwise."

Tom didn't move. Instead his whole demeanour shifted as his eyes narrowed something fierce. Tom's voice dropped to something deadly.

"What are you implying?"

Lupin gave Tom a very pointed stare in return.

"You are the one thing that stands in-between Harry and his prey, and yet you are solely responsible for pushing Harry further away from his humanity."

Lupin took a deep breath, his brow knitted together as his mouth twisted into an unpleasant scowl. Harry could sense the disappointed and disgust in Lupin's next words.

"You don't care if Harry devours someone."

Surprisingly Tom's mouth curled into a cold smile as he titled his head to the side, the danger in his expression apparent.

But Lupin was either oblivious or didn't care as he continued.

"Severus has been more than aware of what you've been trying to hide in Occulumency, that you crave souls nearly as much as Harry. I believe that is why you bought Harry up here despite knowing how foolish it was. It needs to end now before you do irreversible damage."

Tom's eyes were fuelled with a deadly amusement and his next words were so perfect to Harry's ears.

"I don't deny it," Tom said softly.

Harry tore his attention away from Lupin's glowing skin, a small genuine smile tugging on his lips as his own want flicked across their connection.

"Y-you feel it too?" Harry's absent heart practically ached at this.

Tom's dark expression lifted, his own pain flicking across their connection as he stepped around Lupin and closed the gap between them. He took Harry's hand and ran this thumb carefully across Harry's damaged skin.

"I'm filtering out what I can," Tom admitted, his own voice breaking slightly. "I can ignore it most of the time, except when dæmons are nearby and you're feeling particularly…hungry. It's intoxicating despite how repulsive it feels."

"You should try one," Harry grinned suddenly, his smile half cracked and decayed as he tugged Tom closer.

Tom looked genuinely torn, his teeth biting hard into his lip as he shook his head ever so slightly.

"Harry-"

"But you're curious," Harry pressed as he rested his own withered hand on Tom's chest . "Don't worry, we can do it together-"

For a moment, Harry thought he had Tom convinced, despite the clearly obvious denial screaming in his eyes. Not that Tom even had a chance to answer.

A sudden burst of energy exploded throughout the room, disrupting any coherent thought. Tom tore himself away as Harry coiled back in pain, his eyes burning from the bright white that was Niamh's influence.

Snape stood in the entrance to Lupin's office. It only took a moment for his eyes to sweep over the scene. He lingered on Harry's bruised and shackled hands and the black welts that covered Harry's wrists before his gaze slipped across to Tom who had shifted to deliberately stand between them.

Lupin in turn raised his wand, allowing Niamh's protection to drop. Harry didn't need any further incentive and Tom made no movement to calm him in his restraints.

"You understand the severity of the situation?" Lupin asked. "Scrimgeour will be back in the morning."

Snape nodded once as he took a step into Lupin's office.

"Dumbledore is on his way to the Ministry now. Although he suspects that Fudge has had this planned for awhile, therefore we'll have to prepare Potter accordingly," Snape said as he drew his wand and levelled it at Tom.

Tom didn't react, if anything his own nails dug into Harry's withered skin as he remained standing firmly between them. But Snape wasn't having any of it as he crossed the office, his boots echoing on the stone floor as he came to a halt right in front of them. He towered over them, his face twisted into a nasty scowl as he glared at Tom.

"The longer Potter goes without devouring a dæmon the more inhuman he becomes," Snape snapped. "I thought at least you wouldn't be idiotic enough to encourage any sort of temptation-"

Harry wrenched himself away from Tom only to be halted by his restraints.

"Leave Tom out of it," Harry hissed as he glared back at Snape. "This isn't his fault."

"No?" Snape sneered. "I suppose from your complete lack of effort, the blame lies entirely with you, Potter. One would almost think you want to be removed from Hogwarts, of course St Mungos may not be suitable to hold you long term, perhaps the Department of Mysteries will be more to your liking?"

Harry flinched, his chest tight as he withdrew. But Snape's expression remained just as cruel, his expression not once flickering.

"Although the Ministry won't want to contain you indefinitely. Either you'll be reduced to a form fully under their control or deemed too much of a risk that they exterminate the both of you."

"Shut up," Harry hissed. "Just shut up-"

Deep fear was coursing through his soul, cutting away any shred of composure or hope that Harry had remaining. Tom's grip only tightened on Harry's wrist, securing his hands gently.

"Harry-" Tom started, his voice was so calm it was disorientating. "I won't let that happen-"

Harry ran his tongue over his cracked lips, his teeth biting harder than he meant to.

"Fudge is going to shut us away somewhere I will never taste or see another dæmon again," Harry whispered as he stared blankly, the intense fear routing in. Cold was creeping around him, reaching out to pull any remaining warmth from the room.

Tom was clammy, his own grip weak as he pulled Harry's chin around so that their terrified eyes locked.

"I won't let him."

Harry shot Tom a despairing look, as his hands slipped away to thread his nails through his own hair.

"We still have to find Lyra," Tom urged as his knees shook. "We can't give up on her."

"I want her more than anything," Harry said, his voice hoarse as all warmth faded from Tom, even Niamh wasn't spared as she slunk back towards Lupin. "More than I want any other dæmon. I see her link, she's so close, its torture knowing that she's mine yet I can't have her."

Tom didn't say another word, instead he pressed his hand over where Harry's heart should have been, where the only evidence that Lyra belonged to Harry still existed.

"I just don't care anymore," Harry said as his own nails returned to dig fiercely into his own skin, as if the pain would somehow make it any easier. "I'm done trying to be something I'm not. I can't do this."

Tom shook his head, having no strength to pull away as his face drained of all colour.

"You don't have a choice," Tom bit back.

"No, you don't," Snape interpreted and Harry savoured the opportunity to dismiss Tom as his dead eye slipped back onto Niamh. Lupin's own breath was fogging up in front of him as he relived his most terrible memories. It was the only thing to give him any energy, any hope that there was a reason to go forwards.

"Now you need to concentrate, Potter. And **clear your mind."**

Harry ignored him.

Snape stepped up beside them, his wand purposely held at his side as if ready to direct it at either one of them.

"We have two options. Either you master Occulumency in the next twelve hours, or we find another way to dispel your desires, Potter," Snape said. "Given that the first is next to impossible; I suggest we focus on the latter."

Tom's expression twisted back into a scowl as he tore his gaze from Harry to stare at Snape and Lupin warily.

"I'm not strong enough to block out Harry's desires, you know what happened with Scrimgeour. If I'm not careful Harry can have me incapacitated in a moment, I will not risk tomorrow solely on my ability-"

"And you're willing to risk it on Potter's?" Snape sneered, "Fortunately you have more of a chance of mastering control than Potter."

Tom's expression soured, but Snape wasn't finished.

"There are other ways to control a person," he said coolly. "And from what I have observed you have all of the Dark Lord's capability."

A flicker of uncertainty flashed between their connection, and Tom didn't say anything. Harry shifted closer so that Tom was tantalisingly close, his fear seeping so erratically between them.

"Potter glorifies dæmons, it's seeping through into your own desires, causing conflicting emotions. You need to influence Potter's craving at the source, halt his own temptations rather than trying to overpower his will with your own."

And then Snape did something Harry would have never anticipated. He held out his own wand to Tom.

"We'll need a dæmon to try it out properly," Snape said.

"Niamh?" Harry asked, his hungry gaze falling onto the werewolf.

But Tom's attention remained fixed on Snape. Tom's body tensed, despite his own hand reaching out to take hold of the black wand.

"I believe you know the incantation?" Snape said.

Tom nodded but he had an odd look on his face. Even across their connection, Tom was hesitating, something holding him back.

Snape rolled his eyes, a sneer appearing on his face, but he never got a chance to utter an insult.

"Fine," Tom bit out, his own shoulder's relaxing despite being anything but okay. He shoved his own wand into Snape's hand as his hand gripped the black wand.

Tom let out a tantalising breath as he turned to Harry.

"We'll start slow; I don't think I can hold you off for long."

"Potter, you need to let go. Let Tom enter your mind," Snape instructed.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but as Tom's pleading eyes he nodded, an odd calm settling over him like the dozen times before. Connecting to Tom had never come easier.

Tom stepped in front of him, blocking out little of Niamh's light as she prowled behind him.

"Okay?" Tom asked.

Harry stole one last desperate glance at Niamh, drinking in what he could as he bit his lip. He nodded once.

Tom's voice was so soft, his wand flicking ever so carefully as he whispered.

"Imperio."

It was like a blanket was seeping over him, a numbness so cold and clear yet so familiar and warm as Harry sunk into Tom's open embrace.

_Look at me with **only** your good eye._

Harry didn't need to be told twice, he pressed his forehead against Tom's own, so that they were entwined completely in both mind and soul, until all traces of dæmons had gone.

_Good. Now, hold my image._

The voice was distant, that Harry wanted to sink into it further, to do what it wanted.

_Look towards Niamh, but hold my image, don't let it go._

Tom was so clear, more so than usual. There was no darkness, only his perfect image.

_Look at the dæmon, do it now._

Harry pulled his forehead away from Tom, his head tilting to seek what the voice was so eager for him to see.

The wolf had her snout rippled as she bared her large teeth in Harry's direction. Her form was smaller, her presence less meaningful. Everything about her was so dull.

_I'm going to remove your restraints. Just hold my image and take one step towards Niamh._

Harry felt himself nodding despite himself as he took one single step forwards.

_Okay, just concentrate on the dæmon, but don't move._

And then the small voice in the back of Harry's own.

Why, though?

Another voice had awoken in the back on his brain. You can't take her soul if you can't see her true form.

_Look with only your good eye!_

The voice was harder this time, more commanding.

No, I don't want to, said the other voice more firmly. I want to see her...I want to taste her.

_Don't-_

There was no stopping it. Niamh's true form exploded outwards, revealing what Harry knew to be hidden. Harry didn't need more incentive as he twisted forwards, his darkness at his beckoning as he sucked in a deep rattling breath.

There was a flash of white, and Harry's hands seared with an unbelievable pain, blisters burst onto his skin as the stench of rotting flesh overpowered the room.

Naimh had flashed into her patronus form, if only briefly. But Harry still wanted her despite the taste of burnt ash in his mouth and the fresh bruise, bleeding out across his chest. He dived forwards, ignoring the sharp pain that seared across his body.

And then everything came to a screaming halt. Harry was no longer free, his hands suddenly bound in those cursed chains. It just wasn't right, wasn't fair.

Niamh was taunting just out of reach as she growled at him.

But it was Tom who was solely responsible for holding what remained of Harry's attention. Snape's wand lay discarded across the floor, and Tom looked completely pale, his face drained of all colour when compared to Harry's decayed own.

"Why are you useless at all the wrong things, Potter?" Snape said. He stepped up to stand directly in front of Harry as he shone Tom's wand down into Harry's eyes.

Harry blinked at the influx of light, his hand rising automatically to cover his left eye as he stepped away.

"Why, what did I do?"

Harry looked to Tom, who distinctly didn't answer. If anything he was trembling, his own hand twitching as he pulled himself up tentatively from the floor. It seemed clear to the other four that he'd done something wrong.

"You can fight off the imperious curse," Tom said at last.

Harry blinked.

"I-what?"

"You see me with your good eye," Tom said. "If I can force you to remain in that perspective then it should be the same as when I cover your right eye physically. You won't be able to see dæmons and then won't be tempted by them."

"But-"

"You fought off my curse," Tom explained. "You're too strong, you wouldn't listen."

"Can we try again?" Harry said. "I'll listen this time-"

"It doesn't work like that, Potter," Snape said, as he summoned his wand from where Tom had dropped it on the floor. "The problem is that you want to devour dæmons, it's instinctual, your natural desire. You can't just decide not to attack them if that's what you want above all else. Even when someone else if feeding you clear instructions."

"Oh, right-"

Tom's rising panic was suffocating, the clear indication that their future was disappearing. But there was nothing Harry could say that would make it okay. He'd failed.

Fear clenched what remained of Harry's soul, it was just like being back in the guillotine. Where they could do nothing but resign themselves to the horrible unknown where their circumstance would be nothing but worse.

Tom's composure was normally so calm when in company, but there was nothing hiding the fear in his eyes.

"There must be something," Tom whispered. "Dementors can control themselves, it shouldn't be any different for Harry."

"Harry is still human," Lupin said as he weaved his fingers through Niamh's fur, "He still reacts to his human tendencies, he just needs more time."

"There is no more time," Tom spat, his fists clenching as he took one step towards Lupin. "That's the whole point in all this, Harry's expected to do something that should take years to adjust too, he's thirteen and yet a part of him is of the utmost evil. What the hell does anyone expect from us?"

It was clear from Lupin's broken expression that he didn't have a response to this and Tom was left digging in his nails through his scalp as he sought out an answer from the oddly silent potions master.

"There must be something else," Tom stressed. "Magic has endless possibilities; I can't believe we've tried everything."

There was something about the way Snape moved, his robes draping to the floor as he crossed his arms.

"There is one other option," Snape said, his cold voice unusually quiet. "But it depends on what measures you are willing to go to."

At this point, Harry was sure Tom would do anything.

"It's not legal is it?" Lupin asked warily.

"It's not legal or ethical," Snape answered calmly.

Lupin's lips thinned at this and Niamh growled, her tail flicking.

"You were happy enough when I cast the Imperious Curse on Harry," Tom muttered.

Both Snape and Lupin ignored this comment.

"What is it?" Lupin asked.

"For the last few weeks I've been developing a potion," Snape said. "Theoretically, I hope it will allow Potter to remain in control, keep his rationale thoughts unhampered. Think of it as similar to how the wolfsbane potion works."

"And what's the illegal part of it?" Harry asked.

Snape's eyes narrowed as there was a deliberate pause as he surveyed Harry carefully.

"The ingredients," Snape said softly.

Harry frowned, as he sought out Tom, who inclined his head ever so slightly.

"We'll try it," Tom said.

Snape nodded.

"Wait here."

* * *

Snape didn't take long to return. At least it didn't feel like any time had passed for Harry. Niamh had remained in her normal form, her huge body towering over him in a whirl of distracting temptation. Tom had been silent the whole time, his deep breaths barely holding steady.

Snape stepped forwards and placed a small oval shaped bottle on Lupin's desk. Beside Harry, Tom actually shivered and took a slight step back, his own realisation ricocheting through Harry in a mixture of horror and desperate hope. Harry wetted his cracked lips as his dead eye slipped away from Niamh.

The bottle held a solely black liquid, but that wasn't what drove Harry's rising excitement. There was an odd mist oozing around its contents, seeping out from around the cork. The contents could only be one thing which was only confirmed when Snape removed the stopper.

A mixture of death and rotting burst from its contents. The mist was coiling outwards as if its desire was to flee from itself, and yet at the same time there was the most perfect sensation, small flickers of golden particles which danced captured within.

"A dæmon," Harry breathed, totally mesmerised from the potion. "How did you-"

Lupin was staring at Snape very carefully now. Even Niamh was momentary distracted as she growled and bared her deadly teeth.

"Knockturn Alley?" Lupin questioned sharply.

Snape didn't answer as he made to hand the small vial to Harry.

Quick as anything Tom's hand was tight around Harry's wrist, stopping him from reaching forwards.

"Who?" Tom asked.

"Does it matter?" Snape retorted coolly.

Harry shook his head. A dæmon was a dæmon, it made no difference who they belonged to. He just wanted to taste them and he twisted his arm to free himself from Tom's grip.

Tom diverted his gaze. There was a moment when Harry was sure Tom would protest and deny him what he craved. Only Tom gave a single sharp nod to Harry. Harry didn't need to be told twice.

Harry breathed in the mist, almost giddy as he pressed it to his cracked lips. It was by no means the real thing but it would do.

Despite the vial being cool to the touch, the liquid within was uncomfortably hot, it burned down Harry's throat causing him to cough and splutter. For a moment, sickness consumed him as a hot flush. Harry staggered to his knees, barely noticing when Tom's burning hands caught him around the waist.

"Harry-"

It was almost like when Harry had taken Quirrell's dæmon, the completeness so peaceful as if nothing could take this moment from him but at the same time something just didn't satisfy his itch.

Niamh was still there, her light faded almost, almost like the dæmons tainted from Azkaban. Harry attempted to stand, to move closer to his target, but Tom's grip was fierce.

"Harry?"

Something was different; at least Tom seemed to think so.

"I-it's not enough," Harry gasped. "I still want her-" Still wanted to rip her limb from limb and split her soul open for himself.

Tom shook his head, his eyes filled with terror despite the calm he was portraying.

"Hang on, let me try something."

Harry turned to him, caught out by the determined look on Tom's face as Tom pressed his lips tightly together.

"But-"

Tom was reaching out across their connection, prodding gently into Harry's mind. It was easy enough to let him in, just like they'd practiced and certainly something had changed.

"It's enough," Tom confirmed before he nodded to Niamh. "Look."

Harry didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't a normal wolf.

Niamh was half the size of her werewolf form, her snout still rippled as she snarled in Harry's direction. Her usual dust was no longer present, hidden behind whatever barrier Tom had conjured. Harry swallowed, almost too afraid to take a breath and break the spell.

"I-how?"

"Something's changed," Tom said. "Before your senses were on point but now everything is distorted, not by much, but I can take advantage of the confusion."

An immense sense of relief washed over Harry as he stared at Niamh. It was almost a disappointment that any temptation was gone. Maybe if he looked hard enough-

Tom grabbed him suddenly, shaking his head as his eyes shone with terror.

"Don't push it."

Snape however had his wand drawn and his expression was fierce.

"That is exactly what I want you to do," Snape said.

Tom and Harry stared at this, their hands clinging desperately to each other.

"Do not think of your situation lightly, Potter," Snape continued coolly. "I am only considering this risk because you have a piece of the Dark Lords soul to keep you in check and manage your pathetic attempt at Occulumency. So until I am absolutely content that this potion remains potent enough for a sustained period, we will be testing how far we can push it. Usually ingredients need longer to acclimatise, but we have been left with no other option."

Tom squeezed Harry's hand, but it was clearly more for his own benefit than for Harry's.

* * *

Lupin was slumped back at his desk; he'd summoned a towel which he'd placed over eyes. Niamh was curled up beside him as tremors ran through her body, clearly shaken from Harry's constant influence. Her outline was blurred as small pieces of her soul bled out towards Harry's hold.

It was so tantalising that Harry couldn't draw himself fully away. Tom's influence had diminished slightly, his magic exhausted as he huddled close to Harry. Tom's face was pale as small beads of sweat ran across his forehead as his skin burned red hot. Harry pressed his own hand to Tom's head, savouring the moment as Tom lent into it to savour Harry's cold.

Snape was otherwise fine; he was currently leaning on Lupin's desk, with his wand pressed to his temple.

"I don't understand why they are helping us," Harry whispered. "Scrimgeour would throw them in Azkaban if he found out."

Tom shrugged, his strained eyes finding Harry's as he stifled a yawn.

"Snape's a Death Eater," he said. "Voldemort doesn't want you locked away and in the control of the Ministry, not if you can keep your independence and he can keep a close eye on you."

Harry's disbelieving look only caused Tom to shrug.

"Who do you think is providing Snape with a fresh supply of dæmons for his little experiments?"

Harry couldn't help but draw a sharp breath at this, his thoughts whirling.

"And Lupin?" he asked.

Tom crossed his arms and his next response caught Harry by surprise.

"Lupin's wants to believe you're not a monster, that you're like him and can still live a normal life. We can exploit this, take advantage of his sympathy. Or if he does have intentions of reconnecting with Black-"

Now this certainly caught Harry's attention, his thoughts flying back to Scrimgeour's and Lupin's earlier conversation.

"Do you really think he's working with Black?" Harry whispered.

Tom shook his head.

"Black's been in Azkaban for twelve years, but there's something odd about it don't you think? Lupin seems a little bit too interested in you; Niamh can't take her eyes off you."

"That's because she thinks I'm going to eat her," Harry muttered.

Tom almost cracked a smile at this, his eyes softening, despite the uncomfortable spike which hummed between them.

Harry glanced back to Snape, Lupin and Nimah, but they all seemed too preoccupied to look across in their direction.

Tom was clearly cautious of the same thing as he spun his wand between his fingers and dropped his voice lower.

"Do you remember what Black said to you in St Pancras?"

Harry faltered, caught off guard by the question. He bit his lip as his fingers wound into the front of Tom's shirt. But Tom was already answering.

"You said Black could find Lyra," Tom whispered.

"I-I guess," Harry faulted as he remembered how insistent Black had been. "At least he sounded convincing at the time."

But Tom didn't respond, instead he only nodded an odd sense of calm coming over him.

"I don't like it," Tom said softly. "Black's unhinged, he's been in Azkaban surrounded by dementors for years. He's not going to be thinking rationally. His soul desire has been to hunt you rather than return to Voldemort."

Harry looked down longingly at the thin chained link which splintered out from his absent heart.

"So you think Lyra is still safer away from me? Even if Black catches up to her?"

Tom's gaze deliberately settled away from Harry's dead eye.

"From what Lupin was saying to Scrimgeour, Lyra will only reveal herself to someone she trusts."

Immense relief flooded into Harry but it was short lived.

"So what, only I can find her? Or you, I guess," Harry asked.

It was an honest enough question, but Tom's lack of an immediate response lingered a little too longer than was comfortable. If anything Tom's fist had curled up and his whole posture had stiffened.

"Or anyone else you trust," Tom added softly.

Harry tried to ignore his tightening chest as each raspy breath drew less than the previous.

"Do you think this is right?" Harry finally asked, his temptation drawn back to Niamh. "If something goes wrong-"

"Tomorrow is your last chance," Tom said, his eyes oddly cold and his gaze unfocused. "I don't care if it's right or not."


End file.
